Paper Flowers
by LuckyLadybug
Summary: CONCLUDED WITH CHAPTER 12 AND EPILOGUE! The final battle for Juno has come, with enemies Colchis, Fafnir, and Yami Marik all on hand for the Ishtars to deal with. Who will survive? Please review nicely!
1. Arrival

**Yu-Gi-Oh!**

**Paper Flowers**

**By LuckyLadybug**

**Notes: This is my special fantasy type fic that I've been wanting to write for some time The YGO characters aren't mine, the story is, and this is sibling cuteness! o Oh! And I've used the Geates talisman/Fafnir thing before in a different fandom (though that story was much different), so I don't need anyone telling me I've ripped someone off because I'm the one who created those elements XD This may start a bit confusing, but bear with me and please don't complain X3 I'll explain more as each chapter unfolds! ****I apologize for the removal of the songs, but the new policy has forced me to remove them.**

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The young teenager struggled as the guards dragged him down the endless hallway littered with strange carvings and paintings of ancient peoples and pagan gods. The dim lights from the hanging torches above his head cast strange shadows that danced across the walls, morphing the normal humans into demonic chimeras and ghouls that seemed to be laying in wait for the kill. The youth's own shadow elbowed one of the ghoulish creatures and then was slapped harshly across the face.

"Thy struggles avail thee nothing!" the man belonging to the unearthly shadow cried with a sickening grin that showed all of his unkempt teeth. He chose to speak in the "Olde English," though none of the others in his party did. "Thou art being taken to our great ruler. He shall decide what is to become of thee!" His fingers dug into the teen's exposed arm sharply, leaving several angry red marks in the tan flesh. "Thy crimes shall be punished!"

The boy, already weary and badly hurt from everything else he had just come through, barely noticed the extra pain. But he hadn't committed crimes. There was nothing for him to be punished for.

He still displayed the wounds on his chest and shoulder from his swordfight with Apolla, as well as the harsh bumps and bruises all over his body from his fall down the ravine in the land of Juno. His blonde hair, which often seemed to take on a life of its own, now fell about his shoulders, and the long bangs brushed against his lavender eyes, defying all logic by standing up and sticking out as much as they had always done.

His eyes, half-hidden behind the soft locks, were filled with many emotions. Though he was weary and injured—both physically and mentally—he remained strong. Unbroken. Defiant. His quest in this unfamiliar world was to find his loved ones, whether they were dead or whether they were yet living. And though the odds had been against him from the start, his eyes still shined with the determination and fierceness his spirit had always been possessed of. This one was not easily broken, though many had tried. He had come through the darkest of trials . . . the blackest confusion. . . . He had fought against the vilest of souls. The scars under his eyes and the unwanted tattoos covering his back testified of the unrighteous traditions he had once been forced to uphold against his will. The golden jewelry, black leather, and lavender hooded shirt showed his defiance of those traditions and his desire to start something different for his family and future descendants.

Now he met the taunting gaze of his captor, ready to go up against whatever was put in front of him. "Very well then." His voice, unique in its tone and pitch, betrayed none of the weariness he felt inwardly. "I will speak with this ruler of yours. But do not mistake my acceptance of this to be submission. I will never submit to you."

Had he ever willingly submitted to anyone? He thought not. This beautiful soul, often hidden behind a mask of alternating defiance and dancing smiles when he felt lost or sad, was as deep and independent as the flowing waters. At times he felt as free as a passing breeze. And sometimes, as trapped as a creature caught in a jar by a mischievous child.

"You hear that, mates? He won't be submitting to us."

Laughter rang out through the dark walls as the squint-eyed, burly man who seemed to be second-in-command of the scraggly group of guards—and head tormentor—took control of restraining the boy and promptly threw him to the stone floor. A whip cracked over his injured back as his shirt was wrestled off of him. Again and again it struck him, and he bore it with all of his strength, refusing to scream or cry out though this new, insistent pain was overwhelming, especially when he was hit over an already existing wound.

"I'll tell thee something, boy," the assailant said as he drew his arm back for another strike. "Our king doesn't take kindly to defiant gnats. Once he sets his eyes upon thee, I swear by the blood of everyone in the room that he will take thy life himself. Thou wilt never be free again in this realm!"

In the split second it took for him to bring his arm down, the teen had rolled over and snatched the weapon in his bare hands, pulling on it with all his might. Blood dripped down his back and over his arms, splashing red on the stones underneath him, but he paid it no heed.

What made one truly free? It was something he had pondered upon much in his young life. He still had no concrete answers. Perhaps, he reflected, it is an individual matter. And what made him free was being true to himself and those around him.

Again he was hauled to his feet and restrained as the party approached a massive staircase made of marble and limestone. Apparently his captors didn't care about the blood that was staining their clothes or their hands as they gripped their prisoner tightly against them. But then, they had been harming and murdering for so many years that it probably didn't bother them anymore. They would see the blood as a sort of morbid trophy of their achievements—if killing could be seen as an achievement. And with their barbaric nature, the blonde-haired, tan-skinned boy didn't doubt it for one minute that they would see it that way.

"We ascend the stairs now," the one in the lead cried, raising his sword above him. "Our wise and great ruler is at the top!" He brought the weapon down to his eye level, licking a long stream of blood from off its metal.

The teen's lip curled in disgust as he watched this. He himself had known some who took pleasure from such things, but it never ceased to disturb his heart and soul. What if whoever had harmed his precious siblings had gleefully drunk their blood from off the long sword before stabbing it into the torn pieces of their cloaks and leaving those there for him to find later?

It had been so horrible. . . . To come home and not find either of them—only their ripped and bloodied capes. He remembered the feelings of despair that had come over him . . . falling to his knees and gingerly lifting the tattered cloth . . . sobbing into it, not knowing what had happened. Not knowing if they were alive. Not knowing who would be so cruel, so wicked as to harm them. . . . And then for Shadi to appear and tell him that he must journey to this other dimension to find the ones he loved so much. . . .

"They are still alive," the enigmatic Egyptian had said, "and following along the trail of those that have taken them is the only way to get them back."

"But why the devil were they taken!" the boy had screamed in confusion. "What did those barbarians want with them!"

"I cannot tell you," Shadi had replied. "You must uncover these secrets yourself."

And so Shadi had sent him to this realm, where for endless days now he had struggled with pain-filled hardships and emotional agony, unable to find any clues to his siblings' whereabouts. The only information he had picked up in his travels was that this strange land was slowly being taken over by a demented man named Fafnir, but he hadn't seen how that could have any relevance to his problems. All this man wanted was a strange talisman crafted by his nemesis Geates many centuries before. And many in this world didn't believe Fafnir was truly the one behind it all, because of the man's clever scheming and manipulating of the people. But this boy knew otherwise. He had fought against many of Fafnir's minions since first arriving, and now he had been taken prisoner by these guards after falling down a steep ravine courtesy of one of this Fafnir's dragons. Perhaps, the boy worried now, for some reason Fafnir was relevant to his problem. Maybe the cruel man had targeted him and his siblings for his plot. If that were so, there was nothing that would keep this youth from stopping him!

He truly could barely walk, but he was still forced to do so. The stairs he was climbing now were endless. They spiraled around in such a way that every time a corner was reached it was thought to be the exit, though it actually was not. Footsteps echoed loudly on the marble stones, resounding about the room as if they would never fade. And with every step the boy felt more and more weak as the pain from his wounded legs grew more intense and overwhelming. Several times his poor limbs gave out and he collapsed, receiving a harsh beating every time it happened, and sometimes a kicking as well before being pulled up again.

"Not very good at balancing, are you?" A foot pressed the youth down the next time he fell. "Maybe you should just stay like this. Of course, it's making a very bad fashion statement on the carpet," the guard added with a smirk, looking at the blood dripping onto the woven rug that covered twelve of the numberless stairs.

The boy reached up and wrapped his hands around the ankle, shoving the person back enough so that he could get free. "I'll go on without any of you," he hissed. "Gladly I will!" Swaying, he got back up and pushed past them all, ignoring the terrible dizziness he instantly felt.

Now that he had come this far, he felt all the more drawn to meet this king, as he had been ever since he had begun this quest all on his own, without any allies. For some reason, he knew he could not leave without seeing the man, whoever he was. This puzzled him immensely, but when he was on a quest of such importance and magnitude, he knew he couldn't ignore such a feeling.

Two people seized him on either side, their menacing forms casting grisly shadows on the walls. "I don't think so," said one. "You are still our captive. You will not escape!" He produced a knife and pressed it against the small part of the teen's throat that was exposed above the golden choker. The boy tensed as he felt the cold metal touch his flesh, but still he refused to back down.

"Defiant child, aren't you," the guard grinned, putting the weapon away.

The remaining stairs seemed just as long as the ones before. By the time the top had been reached, the weary teenager was ready to collapse again. He always pushed himself to the limit without admitting it, and now was no exception, though this time he could not help the way he had been overexerted.

He could hear heavy doors being opened nearby, but this new level was as dark as midnight and he could not determine where the sound was coming from. The echo was so great that it seemed any and every direction could be the correct one.

His captors seemed to know the proper direction, however, and soon he found himself being thrown meanly in onto a hard floor, his bare back still bleeding. Many of his wounds were jarred as he hit the marble, but he refused to cry out. The tiles underneath him sparkled in the glow of the mounted torches on the walls, and when he looked into them, he saw scenes from other parts of the kingdom. Intense battles . . . passionate romances . . . strange creatures that didn't exist in the normal world. . . . All of this provided momentary fascination, but the boy was soon distracted from it.

"Who is entering this throne room unannounced!" a deep voice boomed. The sound reverberated across the walls unmistakably and the youth froze, certain he was becoming ill and hearing things that weren't there. That voice. . . . He had never heard that particular tone before, but he knew the voice! Never could he forget that voice! The voice belonging to one who had always been close by him . . . one who had always watched over and protected him. . . . One who had always loved him as a dear brother. One for whom he had been searching so long. It was he! There was no question in his mind. It was his brother!

Before he had a chance to get up and run forward, or even to cry out his loved one's name, he was again pinned to the floor by the lead guard's foot.

"Forgive us, O great lord Odion," the man purred, "but once you have seen who we have brought to you, I am certain you will understand. We have . . . disciplined him severely for his crimes and know that you will be pleased." He bowed low and his amulet knocked the teen on the forehead.

Ignoring it, the boy struggled to throw his assailant back once more, screaming his brother's name frantically. "Rishid! RISHID!" Was it possible! Was it conceivable that . . . Rishid had survived and now was king over this land of Juno? That was impossible!

So many emotions were coursing through the confused teenager's veins. Shock . . . disbelief . . . joy. . . . He wanted to reach out and grab his brother's hand. He wanted to embrace Rishid and hold him close to his heart. It seemed ages since he had done so. Ages since he had been with his brother.

Rishid had never wanted to be a king. All he had ever wanted was just to belong somewhere, and he had known he was loved by his younger brother and sister and belonged with them. Why would he be here now? WHY? It didn't make sense!

Now the boy's elder brother stepped into the light and stood over him. At first the youth barely recognized him. Instead of the more simple clothes Rishid usually wore, he was now attired in the most fancy, silk-lined robes of royalty. Expensive rings were on his fingers and his ankh earrings were now bejeweled. But the most striking change now was his eyes. Where once they had been kind and soft, they were now cold. Cold and unknowing. A chill ran up the boy's spine. No! This wasn't happening! It couldn't happen!

"Who have you brought?" Rishid demanded, kneeling down to look at this unfamiliar blonde boy. He could not remember his past, nor anyone who had meant anything to him before. He remembered only waking up after being injured and being told that he was the king now that his father had been killed by a zealot. And so he had been forced to accept the throne, not knowing what else there was to do. Though he denied it, inwardly he often had felt so out of place and lost of late. Rishid had no way of knowing of the treacherous plot he was unwittingly a pawn in. "What crimes has he done? This boy doesn't look as though he would harm an insect."

The head guard released the boy from his grip to let Rishid do as he pleased with him. "He calls himself Marik, O great one," the deceitful man replied. Friend against friend. Brother against brother. This was exactly what he had wanted from the beginning. This was what every traitorous act of his would culminate in. And all of this would help him gain the ultimate thing he desired.

"Marik?" Rishid tilted the boy's chin with his rough hand and made him look into his frosty eyes. "And this is of interest to me why? I know no such child. And I insist he looks harmless." But even as he said this, even as he could not recognize a single thing about the boy, he felt a tugging at his heart. At his very soul. And he couldn't explain it.

Marik stared back at the one who was his brother, his own heart and soul shattered into pieces. Rishid didn't know him. The last time Marik had seen him, everything had been such a confused muddle. He couldn't even recall if he had remembered to tell the man how much he loved him. And now Rishid wouldn't care if Marik told him. Marik was a complete stranger to him now. Rishid had known Marik all of the boy's life, but now . . . now . . .

The entire quest finally took its toll on this poor, brave soul and he cried out in anguish, gripping at Rishid's silk-covered arms desperately. "RISHID! I'M YOUR BROTHER, RISHID!" Marik's agonized voice echoed throughout the tomblike room, his lavender eyes wide with shock and terror. This wasn't happening! Rishid couldn't forget him! Rishid never would! NEVER!

Rishid only gazed in shock, pulling himself free from Marik's frantic grip. "Is he mad!" he wanted to know, refusing to speak directly to Marik himself. He had no brother. He had often longed for a sibling instead of this cold, dark throne room, but there was no other family at all, which was why he had had to become the king.

"Not quite mad, my lord," the guard replied smoothly, crossing his arms. "If you would allow me to explain . . ."

"That would be appreciated." Rishid stood up slowly, keeping his eyes on Marik as if he thought the boy would bring some harm to him.

"He is the zealot who has singlehandedly been destroying the kingdom," the guard declared triumphantly. "When we captured him, he was in the process of slaying the mighty dragon Luna! And he is the one who murdered the previous king—your father, my lord!—and left you for dead! Now he is attempting to slither his way into your good graces by telling you that he is your brother!"

Marik began to rise. "That's a lie!" he screamed in anger. "It's all lies! Rishid, you were adopted into my family," he said then in earnest, struggling to calm his fears and feelings of helplessness. "Your birth father never wanted you and neither did your adopted one! And the last king, whoever he was, was certainly not your father. We don't even belong here, Rishid! You and Ishizu were sent here by some ridiculous mistake and I came to bring you back. We belong home, in Domino City!" He closed his eyes tightly, clenching his fists. "I would never hurt you, Rishid. You were always there for me when I needed you, and you and Ishizu are the ones I hold most dear." He prayed that the sincere truth would get through to his dear brother. Rishid couldn't be lost to him! Not now . . . not in this way. . . .

Rishid stared at him, not certain what to make of this spectacle. Who was this boy truly? Was he the zealot, devoid of sanity, who had brought this torment upon the people of the kingdom? Or was he some tortured soldier who had gone mad with the pressures of the war? Or . . . was he speaking the truth?

But there was so much that didn't make sense. Why did the boy call him by this unfamiliar name? His name wasn't Rishid. And if Marik meant so much to him, why would he have forgotten the boy?

No . . . there was no way that what he said could be true, Rishid decided then. He had always been in the palace. There were even photographs to prove it. Everyone knew him in this kingdom. And no one had heard of this Marik before now.

The head guard slapped Marik now, causing the boy's head to snap back painfully. "Enough of this! Admit your crimes to Lord Odion!" he ordered, enjoying the turmoil being created. Everything was according to plan. And he didn't really care if Rishid eventually remembered the truth. It was time to move to the next stage of the plot, and if Rishid remembered things, all that had to be done was eliminate him.

Marik glared back, defiant as always. "I didn't kill the king, nor did I slay the dragon. It was Fafnir and his minions who did all of that!" he retorted. "Luna the dragon assisted me in coming to this part of the land. It was another dragon that then slew her!"

It was as if a jolt had gone through Rishid. "Fafnir?" Instantly he gripped Marik by the hair and pulled him the rest of the way up. "Why do you accuse him!" Fafnir was known throughout this land of Juno as the one who had gotten it civilized many years prior. He wouldn't be the one causing this destruction!

Marik was so stunned at this action that he couldn't even think of the words to say at first. Rishid was hurting him! The brother who had always strived to keep him safe from harm now had no qualms about inflicting it on Marik himself. And this knowledge hurt him far more than any physical pain ever could.

"TELL ME!" Rishid roared, gripping the boy's shoulders and shaking him.

"Rishid, stop it!" Marik pleaded, again trying to grab for his brother's wrists. "You would never treat me like this!" His eyes were filled with the pain and anguish that only comes when someone dearly loved has turned against them. He knew something horrible would have had to have happened to Rishid for him to be this way. Fafnir had done it. Marik knew he had! Fafnir had caused Rishid to forget everything and everyone important to him!

"Call our king by his rightful name!" a second guard ordered, stepping forward with a spear in hand. "He is Lord Odion!"

"He is my brother Rishid!" Marik retorted in rage. "And I will never address him as anything else!"

"BE SILENT!" Rishid screamed then, his golden eyes flashing with rage and anger of his own. "All of you! Be silent!" All of this was too strange for him. Every part of him was screaming that Marik was lying . . . except for his heart. And he still didn't know what to make of it.

He released Marik from his grip, shoving him hard against the marble wall without completely thinking about what he was doing. Marik's eyes went wide as his back hit the smooth stone and left a long stream of blood as he collapsed to his knees in front of Rishid. The boy looked up, his eyes completely haunted by what had been done.

Rishid met Marik's gaze, his eyes now showing no emotion. But something was happening within him. He couldn't stand the look Marik was giving him. He couldn't stand seeing those lavender eyes, so full of anguish and disbelief. But why couldn't he handle it? He was supposed to be immune to those sorts of things. That was what he had been told. He was a merciless king, just like his father, who never broke down and excused anyone. That was the way he had been taught from his childhood.

"Cease looking at me in that way!" he screamed then, so confused by these seemingly new emotions that he was becoming enraged. Slowly he raised his hand to slap Marik.

The boy's shoulders shook with silent sobs as he continued to gaze up at the brother he still loved so much. What was wrong with Rishid? Even with amnesia, why would he treat Marik this way? Rishid was such a gentle person!

Shakily Marik spoke, tensing as Rishid prepared to slap him. "Rishid . . . don't hit me," he whispered. "Please . . ."

Another jolt went through Rishid, this time one of alarm. What was he doing! He wasn't like this! Somehow he knew he wasn't! Why was he hurting this boy? Even if he didn't know him, even if Marik was simply insane, it wasn't an excuse for this. And . . . if Rishid knew that he wasn't the type to continue harming this Marik, despite what he had been told, what if . . . what if some of the other things he had been told somehow weren't true? He didn't understand how they couldn't be, but what if . . . what if he truly was hurting his own brother? The thought was alarming to him.

He lowered his hand now, turning away from Marik. The boy looked almost ready to collapse! Had the guards really "disciplined" him that badly? Marik didn't deserve it. Somehow Rishid knew that Marik didn't deserve it. How could he have been willing to add to his suffering?

Now Marik was struck with the stick part of a spear and forced to the floor. "You have angered Lord Odion!" his unseen attacker roared in chastisement, striking him again and again. "He has turned from you in outrage because he cannot stand to look upon you any longer!"

Marik bore the pain, though hidden tears sneaked down his face. Rishid wasn't stopping this from happening, though he had chosen not to slap him. His brother didn't care anymore. Marik was convinced that he hadn't been able to get through to him. Nothing indicated that he had been. And so his quest had failed. He still didn't know where Ishizu was, but she most likely didn't remember him either. The fight was gone from him now. He knew he couldn't give up, and yet . . . he didn't know what he could do to remedy this living nightmare. Oblivion looked so nice now. . . . He had been fighting it for so long. . . .

And then . . . suddenly . . . the pain stopped. Marik froze, unable to comprehend what had caused the guard to have a change of heart. But soon he saw that it wasn't the guard who had at all.

"Leave him be!" Rishid yelled in fury, restraining the guard from dropping the spear once more. His golden eyes were filled with the fire of righteous indignation at a gross injustice. "You are the one who has angered me." He tore the spear away and snapped it in two. The sound echoed down the halls with finality and the guards flinched.

Marik looked up at Rishid with hope. Did his brother remember, or was it simply that he couldn't stand to see anyone being tortured? Either way Marik was happy. It meant that Rishid's true spirit was shining through the lies someone had forced upon him.

The guard backed up, a fleeting angry glimmer in his eyes as Rishid broke the spear. "But Lord Odion . . ." He faked a shocked expression.

Rishid now delivered his slap to this person instead of to Marik. "This boy has done nothing wrong! Certainly nothing worthy of your inhuman beating!" He turned to several other of the guards. "He is severely wounded. Carry him gently into my private quarters. I will meet you there." Rishid's ice cold gaze returned to the abusive man. "And as for you. Leave this place. Now."

The guard snarled, but at Rishid's next booming command, he turned and stalked away. Once he was out of sight around a carved pillar, he sneered wickedly. "Everything according to plan," he hissed as he laced his fingers together.

Marik smiled up at Rishid weakly as he felt himself be lifted onto a makeshift stretcher and carried down the hall. Though Rishid's servants tried to be gentle, Marik was being jostled quite a bit. But he didn't complain. "My brother . . . you may not realize it now, but you still do care," he said softly. Nothing could have meant more to him than what Rishid had just said and done. Now he could finally accept the oblivion coming over him. Perhaps his quest wasn't a failure. He knew that he would find Ishizu again, and now he had hope that Rishid truly would remember him.

Rishid looked down at him rather coldly. He couldn't explain why he had done what he had, only that it seemed right. But he still didn't know if he could trust this boy or what he had said. "Don't try to talk," he said in a harsh tone. "You've come through much and you are gravely hurt."

"Emotionally more than physically, my brother," Marik replied quietly as his eyes closed in unconsciousness.

Rishid gazed at his poor body for a long moment before he turned away. That was when he noticed that Marik had gripped part of his robe. A strange feeling welled up in him as he looked at the bloodied, tan-skinned hand clinging to the material . . . a sort of protectiveness. Brotherly protectiveness. It was almost like a memory, Rishid realized. But he pushed it aside and gently pried the boy's fingers away from the silky cloth before laying his hand across his bare, bleeding chest. He would worry about the truthfulness of Marik's tale later. Now, he needed to tend to the boy's wounds.


	2. Longing

The door to Rishid's immaculate bedroom creaked open loudly courtesy of the servant in the lead. The men carried Marik inside, each regarding the boy with a look of suspicion but knowing that they had to obey their king's orders. It was true that Marik seemed harmless enough, but they were aware that appearances could be deceiving. Each of the four servants muttered a silent prayer that Rishid knew what he was doing. He had ruled for only several weeks by their time, and though he seemed wise, they knew he was still slightly uncomfortable with the position of king. Perhaps some of his ideas would be off-base.

The electric chandelier overhead clicked on automatically as soon as the door was opened and it bathed its soft glow over those entering. It cast its light upon Marik's tired and sad face and Rishid carefully brushed the boy's long bangs aside to study this strange, unconscious enigma that had dropped into his life. His body was here, but his mind—which held possible answers to Rishid's unknown past—was somewhere else entirely. The boy was so close . . . and yet so far away. . . .

As Rishid's memories were. He was about twenty-five years old. And he only recalled five weeks out of those twenty-five years. That wasn't much at all. What had happened in the rest of his life? Where had he been? What had he learned? . . . What people had he known and loved? Was . . . was Marik . . . could he have been one of them?

_"My lord! My lord! A letter just came from Moghur!"_

_Rishid looked up from the throne room he was still trying to get used to. He had only been the king for six days, and everything was so strange. Somehow he felt so out of place in the palace, as if he had never lived a royal life before. But that was impossible. He would have had to have always lived in such a way to be heir to the throne._

_And yet he was so in awe of everything in the palace . . . the spacious rooms, the elaborate furniture, the expensive, frivolous add-ons. . . . It was because he had gotten complete amnesia from the attack on him and his father, he was told, and of course that was plausible, and had Rishid been a naive person, he might have believed that. But Rishid wasn't naive and he felt that there was more than what he was being told. But for now, not knowing anything else to do, he had accepted the throne of Juno. And, not knowing who he could trust—if anyone—he was becoming extremely cold and emotionless outwardly. It was the only way he felt he could handle this experience until his memories had returned to him._

_"Yes? And what does this letter say?" Rishid asked this messenger now, snapping back to the present and raising steely eyes to meet his._

_"They've been attacked in Moghur too, my lord!" the messenger wailed, wringing his hands frantically. "This mysterious zealot has struck again and wasted half the village!"_

_Rishid put his fingers on the bridge of his nose and pressed hard, feeling a headache coming on. He didn't know what to do about this zealot. Over the last day, he had been educated in the fact that this person—whoever he was—attacked a different village once or twice every week, but never on the same days of the week. Everyone in the kingdom lived in terror wondering where the next target would be. The assassin left a trail of pure destruction and blood wherever he went, earning him the nickname of "Red Zealot" by some. Those who survived his mad attacks couldn't describe him. It always varied. He was short, he was tall. He was young, he was old. Rishid wondered if they were just too frightened to be able to tell it accurately . . . or if there could be more than one Red Zealot._

_"How long has this been going on?" Rishid boomed loudly now. There were so many problems he suddenly had to deal with. . . . And he didn't know how to handle any of them, especially the Red Zealot. How could he fix a crisis such as this? People were dying by the number nearly every day, and it was always in a place that the kingdom's armies were not in, no matter how Rishid tried to evenly distribute them around to protect each village! But . . . he could have sworn he had assigned some to Moghur. . . ._

_"For . . . for months, my lord," the messenger boy informed him nervously, twisting his feathered cap about in his hands. "Your father perished when he was trying so hard to stop the scoundrel." Everyone in the palace knew about Rishid's amnesia and tried to help him whenever they could by supplying information about his "past." Rishid appreciated it at times, but now he found the reminder simply irritating._

_"Months?" Rishid clenched his fists. "How is anyone even still alive at all!"_

_The messenger swallowed hard, unable to think of a good answer._

_Rishid waved him away then. "Never mind. Leave me." He wanted time to think. Time to try to work out a plan. As long as he was being king, he knew he had to. He couldn't not take the responsibility._

_It wasn't long before he was looking over the official record from when he had assigned the kingdom's soldiers to the villages most vulnerable. He scrolled through the pages desperately, questions tumbling over themselves in his mind. Halfway down the third leaf, he found what he was looking for. A name jumped out at him._

_Moghur._

_Moghur was on the list, as he had thought. Rishid had sent soldiers there, but they had never arrived. Why not? What had happened to them? It was another of the strange mysteries in this seemingly cursed land, and no matter who Rishid spoke to or where he searched for answers, he found none. It seemed that an entire regiment had disappeared without a trace._

"Lord Odion?"

Rishid started back to the present and looked down at Marik again. Still the boy didn't look familiar, but still Rishid was drawn to him. And Rishid knew all the more that Marik didn't seem as though he could be the Red Zealot. The fact was that Rishid sensed nothing evil about him at all. And one such as the Red Zealot, who killed anyone and everyone, including innocents, must have such a darkness about him that it could be sensed instantly.

"Are you alright, my lord?" the servant asked, peering over at him.

"Of course," Rishid retorted harshly, straightening up and glancing around the room. There was no need for him to explain his inward feelings. He never would, not to this person. And now he had other things to put his mind to.

The furniture was all crafted of an expensive and rare pine and was decorated with trim of gold. Silk curtains at the windows were drawn. Sometimes Rishid would look out at the kingdom when he was unable to sleep, pondering over his destiny and his elusive memories, but usually he preferred to keep the curtains closed. Now he walked purposefully to the bed and pulled the down comforter back.

"Lay the boy on the bed," he ordered, "and then leave us." Opening a drawer, Rishid took out a medical supplies kit from a desk drawer and then washed his hands in the expansive bathroom before taking out the items from the kit that he would need.

Fredric, one of Rishid's most trusted servants, stared at him in disbelief at this order as he brought out bandages and antiseptic cloths. Marik was still suspected of being the traitor who had been destroying the kingdom piece by piece. And their king was planning to stay alone in the room with him to treat his wounds himself? Not only that, but he was willing to give the stranger his bed? Fredric had never known Rishid to do anything of the sort since he had become the ruler. "My lord? Are you certain that's wise?" the short, nervous man ventured to ask. He wanted to add, Why on earth do you want to help this possible traitor! but he restrained himself. He knew it wasn't his place.

But Rishid already seemed to think Fredric had overstepped his bounds. The tall Egyptian whirled on him angrily. "Do you question me? Even if this child is the traitor, he is too weak to do anything. He is practically dead!" Rishid towered over Fredric's form and the other man swallowed hard, wondering what was to be done with him now. "I could overpower him in less than a minute. And I could do the same to you if you continue to cross me. Now do as I say and lay him on the bed, or I will do it for you!" He was tired of all this—being king, ordering servants around, and not truly knowing who he was. The emptiness was overwhelming. Despite everyone's seeming kindness toward him, Rishid sensed that most in the palace didn't truly like him. But now, for the first time in ages, he felt a connection to someone. Rishid felt drawn to this boy. There was something about him that made Rishid want to protect him, to never allow him to be hurt again. Rishid liked the feeling in one way and was confused and irritated by it in another.

Fredric bowed low, realizing that he had been let off with a mere warning. "Y-yes, my lord," he said. "Of . . . of course. My deepest apologies." Any of the previous kings would have had him killed right then and there for insolence, he realized. Perhaps Rishid truly was different from the others.

Shakily the servants wrapped Marik's body in a rough cloth and laid him on the bed. They were quite leery of Rishid whenever he got like this, and they knew he had the power and strength to carry out any threats he might give them. They couldn't know that Rishid was normally gentle . . . that he normally would harm no one. For as long as they remembered, their kings had been harsh and unkind, including the one who had come before Rishid. And Rishid often seemed just as cruel to them, though Fredric was having some seconds thoughts on that now after being allowed to live after his remarks.

The man they hailed as their ruler wasn't finished with them yet, however. Carefully he turned Marik onto his stomach in order to clean the wounds covering his back—which were the most severe—and then he looked up. "Does he have a shirt?" Rishid growled. After seeing the way the guard had been treating him, Rishid was certain that one of them must have stolen Marik's shirt in order to inflict all the more pain by laying the weapons against the boy's bare flesh.

He had seen it done so many times in the courtyard. The soldiers would take it upon themselves to whip anyone they found "misbehaving," whether they had the king's permission or not. Of course Rishid would always discipline them harshly for it, but that didn't seem to bother the rest. They continued acting on their own minds anyway. Rishid knew they didn't respect him.

One of the guards—tall, lanky, and gentle David—stepped forward then, holding the lavender cloth out. "Here it is, my lord," he replied, having taken it back from the one who had been beating Marik earlier. He was the only one who hadn't agreed with the harsh treatment being bestowed upon the poor youth and was eager to help the boy in any way he could now. Marik reminded him of his own younger brother, whom he treasured so dearly.

Rishid nodded slightly. David was just about the only guard he trusted in the whole lot of them. He knew that man had a family that he prized above all else and that he never was involved in the beating of any person, nor had he ever disobeyed or ignored Rishid's orders. "Take and wash it and his other clothes for him," Rishid directed coldly. "There is blood all over them."

He had caught a glimpse of some strange hieroglyphics underneath the red liquid on Marik's back and was extremely perplexed by that, but he didn't intend to investigate until they were alone as he had requested. He couldn't help immediately thinking of the strange marks on his own face and wondering if there was a connection. Rishid didn't know why he had those marks. Had he wanted them? Or had they been forced upon him as this kingdom had been? Those in the palace hadn't even attempted to try explaining what the tattoos meant at first, but then one had tried to convince Rishid that he had them because all heirs to the throne did. He might have believed that, except there was nothing remotely resembling the hieroglyphics anywhere in the palace. So he had decided they must mean something else.

The kindhearted guard now accepted his task and left with Marik's shirt and pants. Once the others met with Rishid's smoldering gaze, they made their hasty departure as well, leaving the two alone as the man had commanded.

The door closed behind the richly-dressed king with a loud bang capable of rousing the dead, but he barely noticed. Instead he resumed his self-appointed task, gently dabbing an antiseptic cloth across Marik's back—removing the blood and hopefully anything harmful as well. There were so many wounds. . . . The deep lashes from a whip . . . claw marks from a vicious beast . . . harsh bruises and cuts from a fall and from the beating with the spear. . . . And underneath the blood were, indeed, many hieroglyphics carved right into the youth's flesh. Rishid ran his hand over them grimly and then touched those adorning the left side of his face. So strange. . . . What was their purpose? What did they say? What did they mean?

Carefully Rishid applied ointment to the wounds and then began to bandage them up. Marik jerked slightly at the sting, but didn't regain consciousness.

"Be still," Rishid growled low, but he found he wasn't truly angry or irritated. Instead he was quite concerned. He didn't want the boy to jar the wounds and make them worse. Marik looked like he'd been beaten literally half to death. And the fact that anyone would hurt him so badly infuriated Rishid to no end. Any incessant torture of a human being made Rishid angry, but when this boy was harmed, Rishid's anger was increased a hundredfold.

Without quite realizing it, he soon found himself conversing quite freely with the youth, though no replies were able to be given. But somehow that didn't seem to matter.

"Who are you?" Rishid murmured then. "You're such a strange boy. There are so many mysteries surrounding you . . . and myself as well." Gently he turned Marik on his side to clean the wounds in his chest. Why did the torment of this boy anger him so?

"I don't know who I am. Not completely. But I know I do not care for this lifestyle. It doesn't seem . . . like me," Rishid finished at last. "It doesn't seem like something I would want. Somehow . . . somehow I believe that . . . that I would want a more humble life." Ever since awakening in the palace, he had been uncomfortable with the extravagance and riches. And he had heard people talking behind his back, spreading rumors about how much the kings indulged in. But he didn't want to indulge in anything. He was forced to dress in the robes and jewelry of royalty—silks and satins, rings with rare gems encrusted in them—and he had access to all of the palace treasures and many kinds of exotic foods and pleasures, but it wasn't what he enjoyed. He didn't like being made to feel that he was so much better than everyone else.

As the king, he was also supposed to wear a crown of sorts—something that was similar to the crown/tiara Marik had worn at the beginning of Battle City, though Rishid didn't remember that, of course—but Rishid had discarded that item. He looked at it sometimes from where he had set it in a corner of the bedroom, but he never wore it. His servants sometimes tried to convince himself into doing so, but he hadn't listened in the past and he didn't intend to do so now. "I don't need to wear a crown to be king," he always told them. "If I can do something good for the kingdom, then and only then am I a king."

Again he thought how everything seemed so out of place. Perhaps . . . perhaps he almost wished this boy truly was his brother. Then he would know someone truly loved and wanted him. He would know that he truly had a place to belong.

"Why am I speaking to you?" he said then in irritation as he cleansed his hands of the poor boy's blood and then looked for something soft and warm to dress him in until his own clothes were returned. He soon uncovered a robe made of wine-colored velvet and began helping Marik into it.

Carefully he took the youth's right arm and pulled it through the sleeve. Marik didn't move, obviously still badly hurt and possibly in shock from all he had come through. Rishid shook his head as the feelings of protectiveness again surged over him. "You cannot hear me and yet I speak to you. I barely met you, and yet . . . I am drawn to you. I don't want you to be harmed any more. You seem like someone whom I should protect. But why? Why do I have this need to protect you!" Marik still didn't stir at all and Rishid sighed to himself.

After he finished helping Marik into the robe, Rishid laid him back into the soft covers. He wouldn't worry about finding a place for himself to sleep tonight. He knew he would never be falling asleep, not with this boy in the palace walls. So instead he would observe this stranger for the remaining hours of the night.

Marik moved a bit now, curling up on his side and burrowing into the pillow. Rishid chuckled in spite of himself. Already he seemed fond of the teen. He seemed so innocent when he slept. Whether he truly was innocent was another matter, Rishid knew.

He had seen so many emotions in those deep lavender eyes. Sorrow, pain, anguish, and agony, among others. Marik obviously had seen much in his young life, most of which probably hadn't been good, but he still had a heart. Rishid now couldn't believe for one minute that this boy was the Red Zealot.

Slowly Marik opened his eyes halfway and tried to focus. When he saw Rishid he gave him a genuine smile, though he wasn't truly awake. Their recent encounter had faded away in his mind. He was with his brother. That was all that mattered. He was with his precious older brother, who had saved him. As he had always done.

Rishid gazed into this sweet face and realized something with a start. The boy trusted him. Marik trusted him with his very life. It was obvious in his smile.

It was a strange feeling . . . to know someone idolized him that much. . . . True, Rishid was responsible for the lives of everyone in the kingdom and they seemed to look up to him. . . . But that was different. "Seemed" was the key word. Rishid was certain none of them were truly sincere. The boy was, however. He might be insane—Rishid still wasn't decided on that—but at any rate, he honestly believed Rishid was his brother. The man saw it in the sweet lavender eyes. And he did something he hadn't done in what seemed ages.

He smiled back.

Marik smiled a bit more and then closed his eyes completely, sinking back into a deep unconsciousness.

Rishid pulled the quilt up around the boy's shoulders, moving the long hair away from his nose and mouth. "Rest peacefully, Marik . . . whoever you may be," this lost soul whispered gruffly.

* * *

Confusion . . . confusion and pain. . . . He had endured the pain for so long . . . as long as he possibly could. Then he had succumbed to the blanket of oblivion. But even then, he could still sense things. . . . He could still hear . . . he could still feel.

Rishid was caring for him. Marik felt his brother's hands on his flesh, cleaning and bandaging the wounds and tucking him into the covers. The man had made it clear that he didn't know who Marik was, but Marik was still comforted by the fact that Rishid was still his normal, kind self deep down—despite the tough exterior he was showing now. Marik could sympathize with this, as he himself had often struggled to hide his true self behind a mask when he felt lost and alone. And he was certain that's how Rishid was feeling now.

And so Marik had managed to open his eyes and smile up at him. It was a gesture of thanks for coming to his aid when he needed help so badly . . . for always being there . . . for always being his brother. Marik had already forgiven Rishid for the pain the man had inflicted on him earlier. He knew Rishid hadn't actually been purposely trying to hurt him—that had become obvious when the ruler had taken the spear from the sadistic guard and had broken it in half. Rishid still cared.

Marik now was rewarded for his smile when Rishid smiled back—and for a split second before the boy was sent back into oblivion and his memories, he felt that his brother still did remember and love him.

* * *

_"You? You're the boy I am to face?"_

_Marik looked up at the silhouetted figure in front of him. "I don't know," he growled in reply. "I am to face Apolla, the guardian of the dragon's lair." He clutched the Millennium Rod tightly in his hand, ignoring the blood dripping from where a vicious and strange animal had attacked him earlier._

_A throaty chuckle echoed through the air. "Then our deathmatch should begin." She stepped out of the darkness, her shoulder-length sea green hair being tussled in the breeze. Marik was vaguely reminded of a character he'd seen on a TV show while flipping through the channels one night. The personality, however, seemed quite different from that character and more like another. But Marik would match this Apolla's coldness with his own._

_Slowly he unsheathed the dagger from the Millennium Rod and held it up. "By all means," he vowed. "This match has started."_

_Apolla smiled, showing her sharp, nearly wolf-like teeth and not being bothered by Marik's choice of weapon. It would only make things more interesting. "You realize the terms and conditions, yes?" She stroked her blade almost lovingly. Her clothes were tattered, torn, and covered with recent blood—hers or her last opponent's, Marik didn't know. But he did know about Apolla's "conditions."_

_"Those who are worthy and intelligent enough to defeat you may pass through," Marik reported, his gaze never wavering from Apolla's piercing dark eyes. "But those who are unworthy . . . will be defeated and may die." He hadn't been idly searching for his siblings without a plan—he had carefully researched this land since arriving. He know every legend, every village, every possible existing clue to his precious sister and brother. And he would go to the ends of any earth to find them. He wasn't afraid of Apolla. And he wasn't afraid to die._

_But he wouldn't die. He would fight Apolla and win._

_Apolla smiled at him now—an eerie smile that seemed to be saying, Welcome to your death! "You're only a boy, but you've got spirit and spunk," she hissed. "I've seen many like you. They've all perished now. Very quickly too. You see . . ." She lunged forward with her sword and Marik met it head-on with his dagger. "They were also impulsive. They charged into things without thinking." She broke free and then lunged again, aiming to stab at Marik's heart. Stopping the tip only centimeters away, she gave him an unearthly smirk. She had met so many kinds of people throughout the years. Oh, occasionally one would actually defeat her and get through, but most always no one was smart or clever enough to get past the great Apolla._

_She had gotten many different reactions to her fake stabbing trick. Some would start perspiring and swallowing loudly with agitation. Others would begin to shake until their entire bodies were as bundles of nerves. And yet others would be like this boy—defiant and cold. Marik wasn't the first to take this approach. But something inside her said that this youth would be among the few privileged to get past her._

_"I won't," Marik told her now. He had remained completely calm and still while the sword was pointed at his heart. Apolla wouldn't kill him yet; she was testing him. And he had passed. His siblings' futures depended on his ability to get through this Heaven-forsaken land, and he wasn't going to do anything that would stop him from accomplishing that._

_Again and again Marik relived the sword fight in his dreams. Apolla had pulled away and then lunged abruptly, beginning the battle. Marik had blocked her attempt and then had lunged forward himself. Their blades interlocked together many times, the clanging sounds ringing across the sparse and once beautiful meadow—a place that had seen so much sadness and bloodshed in its time. The grass, once green, since had become brown and coated in layers of blood, shed freely by many unfortunate souls over the course of time. The trees, which had once been lush and full of bright leaves, now stood petrified and bare, the result of a tragic fire five years previous. New blood had splashed across the blackened trunks as Marik had managed to slice into Apolla's shoulder. Then the woman had returned the favor, plowing her sword into Marik's chest._

_"Well, boy, it seems you're done in now," Apolla smiled sadistically as she pulled the sword out from Marik's flesh._

_The boy watched as his blood dripped onto the dead grass. Pain was exploding through his poor body. Every part of him felt as if it were on fire. But he couldn't allow himself to be defeated now. He had come so far! Apolla would not triumph over him!_

_And so he struggled to stand again. "No," he said coldly. "I'm not dead yet and I won't die until my brother and sister are safe! Don't declare this battle over until it's over." Again he raised the dagger. True, perhaps he would fare better if he had an actual sword, but he hadn't been able to locate one anywhere in this kingdom. He knew he had to trust in his ability to win this fight without one._

_"Oh?" Apolla drew back, leaning on her sword momentarily as she watched him. He was different from the others, she knew again. He would fight to the bitter end, but he wouldn't accept that end until he actually wasn't breathing any longer—and even then, she felt that he would keep fighting for life and for victory anyway. "My mistake then, boy. You're right—this battle is far from over!" She charged forward again, cutting into Marik's shoulder, but that was the extent of the damage she was able to inflict upon him._

_Marik moved with lightning speed, despite his wounds. He forced himself to ignore all pain as he abruptly struck Apolla's blade and knocked it from her hand._

_She watched it fly, seeming surprised at first. It landed harmlessly in the grass many feet away with a clang of culmination._

_"Now," Marik said quietly, "you have no weapon."_

_"I don't?"_

_Marik suddenly felt a searing pain in his left leg and looked down to see a hidden knife that Apolla had attached to her own leg by the handle. He hadn't seen it before, as it had been concealed under the woman's flowing skirt. But with the blade extended, all she had to do was get close enough to him to step forward and cause the knife to plunge through his flesh. Only an expert with blades could do such a feat without injuring themselves with the knife in the process._

_"A true swordsman will be prepared for any and all tricks," Apolla whispered as she stepped back. Some might call this act of hers cheating or unfair, but she herself simply saw it as a way to separate the strong from the weak._

_Now she drew a dagger of her own, watching while Marik leaned heavily on his uninjured leg and refused to allow himself to pass out. "I doubt you were prepared for mine," she purred. "Ready to give up yet? You look about done in. I could get you medical attention if you surrender now. But if you keep going, I can't guarantee that you'll last." Marik entranced her in a way. She wondered just how long he would be able to stand fighting with the deep, painful wounds she had given him. Not to mention the fact that he was already weak from barely having been able to find any food since his arrival._

_"If I ever give up on my siblings and surrender, then I will be truly weak," Marik retorted. It was next to impossible for him to stand upright, but he was determined that he would. He didn't care how much pain he felt. He didn't care what he had to go through. All of it would be worth it if he could find that Ishizu and Rishid were alive and well. He had put his whole heart and soul into this quest, and, as Apolla had predicted, not even death could stop him now._

_"Then prove your strength to me!" Apolla screamed as she lunged._

_On the wall, the shadows of two blurs met, their daggers crashing. They moved back slightly in a sort of morbid dance, twisting and weaving with their blades. Then one shadow drew back in pain, clutching the handle of its weapon. But one final blow knocked it away, the attacker moving in and pressing cold metal against the other's throat. It was over._

_Apolla met Marik's clear, steady gaze, her dark eyes proud and triumphant. There was at least one more soul fated for greatness who had crossed her path. She always felt a certain satisfaction and happiness when she found one such. As long as there were headstrong people fighting for good causes, the world would continue to survive._

_Slowly Marik lowered the dagger and slipped it back into its sheath. He had won. He was injured, so very weak, and almost at the point of collapse, but he had won. "I want my siblings," he said low, his voice commanding. That was all he cared about. He wasn't going to stand there and gloat over his victory._

_Apolla smiled. "You are worthy to enter the lair. Pass by me, and may the blessings of the great ones who have gone on before be with you." She stepped aside as the once-invisible gate now appeared. "It was an honor to fight you, Marik Ishtar."_

_Marik stepped through the portal with a final word of goodbye. He didn't know where his path would take him next, but he would be ready to face whatever was thrown at him._

The boy rolled onto his other side, mumbling softly in his sleep. The wound in his shoulder hurt suddenly, but the pains in his heart hurt much worse. He wanted his siblings back. It was all he prayed for. All he hoped for. All he dreamed of.

Then he felt Rishid pull the quilt up around him again. He must have thrown it off without realizing. "Lay still," the man muttered. "You may tear open those wounds worse." The voice was gruff and unlike Rishid's usual soft tones around his younger brother, but his touch was gentle and Marik knew he was only concerned. Unconsciousness soon eased the boy from a dream-filled slumber into complete darkness.

* * *

Slowly the dark-haired priestess awoke from her deep sleep, her eyes wide and amazed by what she had just seen. She looked around the spacious room as she adjusted to the night, brushing the long tresses away from her face. At first she felt as if someone else was in the room with her, but then she knew that that could not be. She was alone.

She had been in the palace since she could last remember, assisting the man who claimed to be the personal advisor to the king. Her visions, he said, would help their ruler immensely in deciding where to place his armies for the next attacks of the Red Zealot.

But she wasn't certain she trusted his words. She had been told that the king would be notified of her first two visions of destruction, but she had since learned that he never had been. The woman had started to wonder if the "advisor" was corrupt and using the information for evil purposes. So she had started making up false visions to relate to him—visions that had nothing to do with where the Red Zealot would strike. The man was becoming very frustrated with her and had taken to locking her in her quarters.

"Isis! You are of no use to me!" he had roared only earlier this evening. "Not to me or to the land of Juno! How will we stop the Red Zealot with these pointless visions of yours!" He had barged into her room, his face red with anger because of the report of the last vision the woman had given.

Ishizu had regarded him calmly from her position across the room. "I am sorry, Lord Colchis, that I am not able to help. I do not control what visions come to me." She usually liked to keep a fair distance away from him, but more often than not she wasn't able to succeed in that.

She remembered how Colchis had narrowed his eyes and regarded her suspiciously, his ruddy, yet handsomely chiseled face displaying a very obvious frown between the moustache and goatee he sported. "No, I suppose you can't. But you can control the visions that you tell to me." He had stepped ever closer until he was trapping her against the wall. "Well, Isis? Is that it? Are you hiding things from me?" Colchis had raised a hand to stroke her cheek, his piercing blue eyes boring into her own. He often turned on his charm when he wanted something, but Isis had never given in to him. That sort of thing didn't appeal to or impress her at all.

"I have no reason to, do I? And I would appreciate it if you would now remove yourself from my room, Lord Colchis," she had told him coldly. He knew she didn't like it when he became forward in that way, but he would do it continually in spite of that. "I have told you what I have seen."

"Very well," he had replied, "but know this, Isis—if you are crossing me, I will find out. And you will be executed from withholding valuable information that could have saved many lives." With that he had turned and stalked out of the room, his cape blowing out behind him.

Now Ishizu looked out the window from where the pale moonlight was creeping in. What if that were true? she wondered. Or she had wondered. After finding herself locked in her room that first time, she had no doubt that Colchis was up to something treacherous. He wanted to keep her from wandering through the palace, from finding the king and telling him what was going on. She wanted so badly to tell her visions to someone she knew she could trust. She wanted more than anything to be able to prevent at least one attack from the Red Zealot. The king was trustworthy. She felt it deep inside. The next attack would take place two days from now, in a small village to their north. Ishizu knew that no matter what, she had to get that information to the king.

Her thoughts wandered back to the dream she had just awoken from. She had seen blood . . . pain . . . a young boy struggling to fight for his life. . . . And . . . she knew him. . . . Somehow . . . somewhere . . . deep in the heart she thought was closed to everyone . . . she knew she did. And she knew that she loved him. He was someone dear to her.

Easing herself out of bed, Ishizu went into the bathroom and splashed cold water in her eyes. Every night for a week now, she had dreamt of that teenager and had seen him in her visions. But why couldn't she remember who he was? She sensed he was nearby now. . . . Very nearby. Somewhere in the palace, perhaps? Was he in trouble? . . . Or would he be soon?

Now she straightened up, staring into the mirror at her worn-out, exhausted reflection. Her eyes were bloodshot and sported black circles underneath them. She hadn't had a good night's sleep ever since coming to this treacherous place. There were so many things pressing on her poor mind—the safety of those in the next village that would be attacked, the identity of that dear boy, her own identity. . . .

Abruptly the image in the mirror changed. She saw dark, murky water, rough with an oncoming storm. Someone was drowning in it. The figure struggled for the surface, reaching out a tan-skinned hand in desperation. "SISTER! Save me, sister! I need you!" the terrified voice screamed. She couldn't see the person clearly, but something told her it was the same youth who had been haunting her dreams for a week.

He flailed frantically, suddenly crying out as something pulled him under. Bubbles rose to the top, followed by blood that turned all of the dark water to a deep red. Then the vision was over and the mirror returned to normal.

The priestess leaned across the sink, her heart pounding. What could it have meant! Was that something that was going to happen? Why was the boy in trouble! And why did he call her "sister"! Did she have family? Was that why she sensed that she loved the boy so?

Shakily the tortured woman reached out and touched the mirror where the drowning teen's hand had been a moment before. "Brother," she whispered softly, feeling a tear slip from her eye. "My brother. . . ."


	3. Hope

A small stream of sunlight broke through the dark gray clouds and touched upon the castle walls, giving the dull stones a bright glow. It made its way into a window and down the endless marble halls, casting its luminous beams across the age-old statues and paintings Marik had seen the previous night. One of the rays found the window of a bedroom and fell across the sleeping form inside. Slowly the once-lifeless boy began to pulsate with movement, throwing the quilt back and then immediately shivering from the cold.

Gentle lavender eyes fluttered open and tried to put the blurry scenes they was seeing into focus. The youth belonging to the eyes was laying in a large bed on his side, wearing an open bathrobe that displayed the bandages over his chest and the one on his leg. The boy felt weak all over and the pain in his stomach was unmistakable. He couldn't recall the last time he had had a good meal. It had been hard to find anything edible in such a barren kingdom as this.

The events of the previous night came back to him then and he struggled to bolt upright. His brother! He had found his brother Rishid . . . only Rishid hadn't remembered him. A feeling of sadness began to creep over him, but then he also recalled how Rishid had helped him anyway, despite not remembering and not completely trusting him. As he took in the immaculate furniture and decorations, Marik realized that Rishid was even letting him sleep there in the royal bed! But where was the man now? Where had Rishid gone? The thought that he wasn't there made panic rise within the distressed youth's heart.

"Rishid?" he called loudly, finding his voice. "Rishid, where are you!" Had his brother gone off to attend to matters of the kingdom? Marik couldn't see him anywhere. But surely the man wouldn't have simply left him there alone in this strange place . . . would he?

A shadow fell across him then and a tight grip was placed on his uninjured shoulder. "Hush, boy," Rishid growled. "You are still hurt. Lay back." He had been on the other side of the expansive room, but now he quickly returned to Marik's side upon hearing the teen call for him. He could see that Marik wasn't in the most stable of conditions. Not only was his body hurt, but his peace of mind was as well.

Marik looked up at him, grateful that he was there but still saddened by his roughness. "Rishid . . . you still don't remember me at all, do you?" he asked softly, stung by Rishid calling him "boy." He had had an idle fantasy that his brother would recall him on this new day, but he knew now and he really had known before that it was ridiculous. It could take many days, even weeks or months, before Rishid would remember. And maybe . . . maybe he actually never would. The possibility was horrifying to think about, and Marik tried not to, but still he knew that some amnesia victims never did regain what they had lost. Rishid could end up as one of those poor souls, doomed to never remember anything on his own and forced to rely solely upon the memories of others.

Rishid looked down, his eyes still cold. "No," he said truthfully. "Nor do I recall that name. I am Odion here." He still couldn't understand his feelings of protectiveness. For the entire night he had turned over and over in his mind the things Marik had said upon their encounter in the throne room. And again he had reached the conclusion that none of it made sense. If nothing else did, the photographs of him there in the palace seemed so conclusive in proving Marik wrong—and yet, Rishid didn't want to say he was wrong. He found the boy's tale not plausible, but that didn't mean there wasn't some part of him that found it possible—or that wished it was.

"You never liked that name," Marik sighed as he laid back down. "You'll always be Rishid to me." He winced as he fell back against one of the wounds. With a grunt of pain he shifted his position. There were actually not too many ways he could lay without hitting against a wound. Such was the nature of his injuries.

Rishid muttered something unintelligible and half-turned away. He felt uncomfortable discussing a past he didn't remember and that might not even have actually happened. "Are you hungry?" he asked coldly, changing the subject. He was certain the boy would be; he looked half-starved and so weak!

Marik nodded slowly, again trying to sit up. Perhaps, he thought sadly, Rishid will never look at me gently again. The cold look was almost too much for him to bear, and he looked away.

Rishid pressed an intercom button to the kitchen. "You will have to tell me what you want," he said flatly. "I don't remember that, either." He pretended not to see Marik slump down gloomily.

Marik twisted one of his armbands. He could hardly stand this. To Rishid, he was nothing more than a stranger. Even though the man had helped him, Marik sadly knew again that he didn't know that they were brothers. And even if Rishid hadn't admitted that again just now, his attitude toward Marik made it obvious. Rishid's sarcasm on the subject now only made it worse. "Anything without meat," the boy finally said quietly. "I don't like meat."

Rishid ordered something without further comment to Marik. Inwardly something was cursing him for treating the boy with such unfeeling, but he tuned the voice out. Yet still . . . something told him that one day, very soon, he would regret it. He would regret all of it. Every unkind word, every cold stare, every time he had behaved roughly towards him. . . . Rishid tuned all of this out as well.

Now Marik placed his hands on the mattress and forced his weak body to get into a sitting position. He caught sight of his lavender shirt and leather pants, freshly washed and neatly folded on the foot of the bed. Instantly he reached for them, throwing the robe back as he did so.

"I had the palace doctor examine you," Rishid said, walking over and standing in front of him. "He thought you should rest for another day. You're hurt very badly. He was surprised you managed to get here with your leg." He could tell from Marik's expression and actions that what he wanted now was to get dressed and get right back to whatever it was he had been doing before being captured, and Rishid was definitely not in favor of that.

Marik laughed weakly but then sobered. "I can't rest. We have to find Ishizu, our sister. And someone's been manipulating you, Rishid. We have to find out who." He stood up, pulling his pants on over his shorts before sinking back into the mattress tiredly. Rishid was right—he could barely stand. But he was determined to not let that stop him. He couldn't let anything stop him now! There was too much at stake—Rishid's memory, his and Ishizu's lives. . . . "Somehow someone forced you to forget those you knew before and loved. For some reason, I believe they wanted you to become the ruler, my brother." Marik looked up into the cold orbs, pleading for understanding and a willingness to listen. Rishid had to listen to him! He couldn't just ignore this! "And they must have had a dark purpose. I fear for your life, Rishid!" Marik was certain that whoever had done this wasn't simply trying to make life difficult for him and his siblings. If it truly was Fafnir, then it all must have something to do with that talisman he was after. The Ishtars had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. At least, that was what Marik told himself. He didn't want to think there was someone new to worry about who was genuinely out to get them.

The Egyptian man stared back stonily, not replying for a long while. "You fear for my life?" he repeated. He understood what Marik was saying, he just didn't understand why or how it could be true. There was no reason that he would be in danger. He couldn't even come up with a plan to capture the Red Zealot! "If I was brought here very recently, then why does everyone know me!" Rishid snarled. He wasn't about to outwardly show his growing feelings of wishing that Marik was his brother. "Why are there photographs of me in the palace when I was a child, if I have only lived here a few weeks?" His conflicting emotions continued to rage within him—what he thought was the truth and what he wished was. He also wished Marik would stop telling him delusions of anything different than what Rishid was certain the truth was. How could any of what Marik said be true?

Marik remained undaunted. "Bring me some of these photos," he requested softly. "Please." He didn't understand things either. How in Heaven's name could anyone somehow get pictures of Rishid as a child and splice them into pictures of the palace? And how could he explain why everyone knew Rishid here? How was their new enemy operating?

Rishid grunted, crossing the floor and looking on the shelves for the albums he had been given several weeks before. "Most rulers would throw you in prison or even execute you on the spot for speaking that way to them," he said. In spite of saying this, he wasn't really irritated with the boy. And it still awed him how Marik trusted him completely and absolutely without a second thought.

"But you're my brother, Rishid," Marik retorted in a melancholy tone. "And you're not arresting me or having me killed. It's true, you very easily could, but you wouldn't and you won't." He leaned back against the soft pillows, watching him. "I know you won't."

Rishid ignored that. "What are those tattoos in your flesh?" he demanded, pulling out a gold-embossed photo album and laying it open on the shelf. He had been wanting to know the answer ever since he had first seen the angry marks. "Where did they come from and why do you have them?" He couldn't imagine anyone willingly placing all of those images into their back—the expansive wings that spread across Marik's shoulder blades, the hieroglyphics and the strange creatures enclosed within playing card-like rectangles, the large ankh symbol. . . . The hours it must have taken to carve all of that must have seemed endless. It looked very painful.

Marik was preparing to pull his shirt on when he heard Rishid's question. Setting the garment aside, the boy stood up and slowly limped over to where Rishid was standing to display the scars for his brother to see. "I never wanted them," he said quietly. "My father—your adoptive father, if he could be called that. . . . He treated you abominably. You never thought of him as your father, and I really don't either." Marik had briefly wanted to explain why he hadn't called the man "our father" just then. Now he shook his head and resumed the original subject. "That man forced these on me. It was some sort of blasted family tradition. And you, my brother . . . you carved those hieroglyphics into your own flesh to share my pain." A flash of memory came to Marik then—he saw Rishid standing before him, removing the bandages from his face and revealing the self-made scars. Marik had always loved his elder brother so very much, and at that moment he had known that he would always have someone to stand by him. Rishid would always love him and be loyal and comforting. And when he could do nothing else, he was always willing to share the boy's pain.

Rishid gazed once more at the mean tattoos adorning the boy's back. Then his hand went up to touch those he sported himself. "Why would I do that for you? Why would I do it for anyone?" he demanded to know. It was all incomprehensible to him, that there could be such caring in this cruel world. And he couldn't imagine that he would choose to have a permanent scar for anything or anyone, no matter who they were. Why would he? If he had had actually had a choice in the matter, as Marik had indicated, why would he have voluntarily scarred his flesh?

Marik turned around to face him, his eyes sad. Rishid couldn't know it, but his words were piercing this youth's heart so. Marik wasn't one who often cried, but he had done it on this quest the previous night and he felt as though he were about to do so again now. Throughout all the years Rishid had always been there for him. It didn't matter what the boy had done or said; Rishid knew Marik loved him no matter what, and the feeling was returned. Rishid had fought to bring Marik back from the chasm of darkness he had fallen into. And Marik knew that without Rishid's and Ishizu's love, he never would have made it back out. Now Rishid couldn't understand any of it.

The boy spoke at last, his current state of heartbreak obvious as he saw Rishid watching him and waiting for an answer.

"Because . . . that's how close we were, my brother."

The silence that followed was deafening. Were. Marik had been close to Rishid in the past. But they were close no longer. Marik clenched his fists now, determined to give back to Rishid what the man had shown to him before—love. True, beautiful, brotherly love. He would fight to bring his brother completely back to him. And he wouldn't give up until it happened.

Thinking of something else, the youth reached up and touched the marks under Rishid's eyes. "Look, my brother," Marik whispered. "Both of us have these. No one else does. Only us." Rishid hadn't spoken for an eternity and Marik was getting desperate for him to do so. And how would the man explain the scars? There wasn't a way to get around the fact that only Marik and Rishid had them.

Rishid had looked at them. He had been perplexed by the scars the first time he had seen them. But he looked again. The dark marks below their eyes were identical in every sharp, dark line. He didn't understand it. He didn't understand any of it. Slowly he raised a hand, about to run a finger over Marik's scars, but then he accidentally brushed against a loose photograph in the nearby album and it fell between the brothers on the floor.

Rishid glared down at it, dropping his hands to his sides again. What was illusion and what was truth? Why did it have to be so difficult to choose the right way? And why was he not allowed to remember?

Marik looked at the stiff paper as well, feeling his heart drop. The photo depicted a five-year-old Rishid standing in front of the palace. How could Marik explain such a trick? How would he ever get his precious brother to believe him and remember the truth?

Then he noticed something else about the picture, something shocking enough to make him bend down and pick it up, in spite of the horrid pain the action brought on. He stared intently, wondering if he was seeing things. But he wasn't.

"You look as if you've seen something treacherous," Rishid remarked. He observed the teen with narrowed eyes, not wanting him to overexert himself. Frankly, he didn't even know how Marik had managed to stand up at all. Did the boy care about him that much, to completely ignore his own health, or lack thereof, to speak with him? "Have you found your story untrue?" This thought actually quite depressed him, he admitted to himself. In spite of being certain Marik's tales were delusions, he really didn't want them proven as such.

"No, Rishid, I haven't!" Marik retorted. "Look at this! You have the scars in this picture." He pointed to the likeness of the five-year-old Rishid. "But you didn't get them until much, much later, when you were about nineteen!" If Rishid would only trust him, here was another indication that something wasn't right! But would Rishid trust him? Couldn't he trust him on this one thing?

Rishid took the picture from him, staring at it fiercely. "Your whole story seems preposterous," he said then. All that Marik had said could be explained away. Maybe not all of it so easily, but one way or another it all could be. He didn't have a very strong case, it seemed to Rishid. But that didn't mean that part of him—a very small part—wasn't starting to believe the boy.

Marik's shoulders slumped in temporary defeat. "And what everyone at the palace has told you isn't?" Now he felt weary once more, the pain from his wounds screaming loudly for justice to be done and for Marik to lay down. But he refused to listen, as he always had refused in the past. Marik simply couldn't be bothered with his body's need to rest. His spirit was always so wild and free—though he didn't feel very free now—and he had so many things to be concerned with at the moment that the thought of resting was pushed aside.

Rishid narrowed his eyes, refusing to answer. He wanted to believe that Marik was telling the truth and that he wasn't some poor, senile, delusional young boy. He wanted to believe that he had a brother—and a sister—to love and treasure. More than anything, he wanted a real family. Somehow now he felt like somewhat of an outcast in the palace, with this strange youth as his only friend. But something kept him from saying any of that aloud. He was afraid of trusting Marik. In a world where he remembered nothing, how would he know who truly spoke what was? He didn't like what he had been told by those in the palace, but he had accepted it with resignation when they had proffered their proof. Marik, poor boy, didn't have proof of his tale that couldn't be explained away by these pictures.

Unless Rishid were to believe what he had said about the scars. Rishid remembered how he had fruitlessly searched the palace for any information about the tattoos he had, but he had never found a satisfactory answer. But still, he had them in that picture when he had been five. And Marik said he hadn't gotten them until fourteen years later. If Rishid were to trust Marik, he would have to rely on something other than proof. He would have to rely on his heart alone. And he didn't know if he could do that.

"Give me a chance, Rishid," Marik said softly, still struggling to stand. His lavender eyes were sad now, but Rishid still saw a faint glimmer of determination. The boy still wasn't giving up, not even after everything Rishid had said that might ordinarily have discouraged him. And Rishid knew that if the tables were turned—if they were brothers and Marik was the one with amnesia—Rishid would be pleading just as much with him.

. . . If they were brothers. If Marik was telling the truth. Could Rishid afford to take the chance? Could he afford to trust someone again? He did believe now with all his heart that Marik believed Rishid was his brother and wasn't just trying to fool him, but that didn't mean that the youth was correct in his beliefs.

"Don't push me out," Marik pleaded, grabbing at Rishid's hand. Desperation began to overwhelm him at Rishid's new silence. What was his brother going to do? Would he refuse to listen to Marik? Would he literally push Marik out of the palace? The boy was too upset to realize that his own feelings were now being fed by his body's weakness. He would become very ill if he didn't lay down again very soon. But still he persisted. "My brother, even if you do not believe me, you could at least be willing to try trusting me for a short while! I understand your confusion, believe me, I do! But . . . it's still hard. I've been looking for you so long, and now that I've found you, I feel like the true you is still hidden from me." He smiled softly, trying to keep hold of what he knew he could be grateful for at this moment. "And yet I know that your courageous, kind spirit still exists. You took me in and cared for me. I know you were the one bandaging my wounds. You didn't assign me to one of your many servants, Rishid—you were trying to nurse me back to health yourself." And in this cold, cruel kingdom, that act meant everything to Marik.

"You won't have any health if you don't lay down," Rishid, able to see more about Marik's current condition than Marik himself, retorted. "And if you insist on standing, I will simply have to carry you back to bed myself!" He didn't know where those words had come from exactly. He only knew his frustration that the boy was going to seriously hurt himself—and that no matter what, he couldn't let that happen.

Marik blinked at Rishid in shock. Then, without knowing exactly why at first, he began to laugh. His weak frame shook with mirth and he found he couldn't stop himself. Maybe I've finally snapped, he thought. Maybe he was laughing out of hysteria. Or maybe everything that had happened was taking its toll on him again.

Rishid certainly seemed to think Marik had snapped. He gazed at the boy in disbelief, unable to find any humor in the situation at all. "What has gone wrong with you?" he growled. "I see nothing amusing about any of this!"

Marik, finally uncovering why he was laughing, slowly managed to calm himself down. "I'm sorry," he apologized, taking several deep breaths. "What you said just now struck me as amusing. It sounded like something I would say, and it's just hard to imagine you being like me, Rishid." In Marik's mind, he and Rishid couldn't be more different. Marik was short-tempered, loud, and impulsive, while Rishid was calm, quiet, and thoughtful. But they had much in common as well. They were both kind, loving people who would do anything for those they cared for. They were both brave and courageous, and both very stubborn and unwilling to admit when they had pushed themselves too far.

Rishid gave the boy a stern look. "I agree," he muttered, finding the thought of being like Marik utterly preposterous. At this point, he most definitely did not see any similarities either.

He also found that Marik was becoming weaker. He could see it in the boy's increasingly slumped stance. "You're going to collapse!" the man scolded. He didn't want Marik to become more sick than he was. That would not help anything.

Marik was about to protest when his leg suddenly gave out, very nearly sending him to the floor.

Instantly Rishid's strong arms were around him, helping him to stay upright. "That's it! Go to bed, you foolish boy!" the Egyptian man yelled in anger. Without thinking he gave Marik a harsh shake, not realizing how badly this would hurt the boy.

Marik's eyes widened and he gripped at Rishid's wrists, dizziness coming over him as his brother completely unnerved him, body and soul. He was no match for his brother's almost inhuman strength. Before long he was being lifted into the air and carried to the bed. What was Rishid going to do? Would he drop him down roughly onto the mattress! Marik actually felt a twinge of apprehensiveness and fear, though he fought against it. His brother wasn't trying to hurt him, he tried to reassure himself. Rishid was only worried and he would set Marik down gently. To Marik's relief, that truly was what was done. Rishid kept, however, almost a deathgrip on Marik's wrist for several agonizing ages before letting him go.

The boy looked up at him, stunned. Again Rishid had hurt him. Perhaps he hadn't meant to, but still he had. Marik's vision was still swimming from the rough jolt that had been delivered to him and his wrist was aching. Rishid had never treated him this way! Slowly the youth sank into the fluffy pillow, struggling not to lose consciousness. He did seem to still be hurt quite badly, he realized. He would have collapsed, had Rishid not caught him in time. Marik opened his mouth to speak, but Rishid turned away from him and headed for the door without saying another word. This was the last thing Marik saw clearly before he started to drop into an almost delirious state.

As the man brushed past him, Marik reached out and snatched part of his robe once more. He didn't know where Rishid was going. What if he was leaving? What if he wasn't planning to come back? Unquenchable panic rose up within him—blinding him, choking him, wrapping itself around his heart and not letting go. Nothing that had just happened was clear to him any more. He couldn't understand where Rishid was going. He didn't know why his brother was leaving him. Was the man angry at him? "Rishid," Marik tried to scream, but it only came out as a tortured whisper.

Instantly Rishid whirled on him, his eyes narrowed and full of apparent rage. "Don't try to speak!" he roared. "You're injured! If you are my brother, I don't want to lose you! Don't you understand! You're too ill for this!" Every pent-up emotion he had held inside since his arrival here was now breaking loose and manifesting itself. The normally even-tempered Rishid couldn't keep these feelings bottled up any longer. Realizing that Marik was endangering himself had been the final straw.

Marik drew back, astonishment and hurt in his own eyes. He had never felt so vulnerable in his life! Rishid had always treated him gently before. But now he had changed. Marik felt it. He could see it. Rishid had changed so very much! And it was frightening him. This feeling that was starting to come over him—a feeling of fear and near-terror when he looked up at Rishid—was something he was trying so hard to push back. He didn't want such a feeling. Never did he want to be afraid of his brother!

"But he hurt you," the phantoms of his delirium chanted again and again. "Your brother hurt you!"

Marik closed his eyes tightly as he fought to ignore them all. Rishid hadn't meant to! he retorted again and again. But the feeling persisted and Marik was forced to acknowledge its presence. He was apprehensive of Rishid. He didn't know what sorts of things the man would do now that he had become so extremely angry and didn't remember the truth.

But still . . . Rishid had said that he didn't want to lose Marik. That was why he had been so upset. He was afraid Marik had overexerted himself and that his brother would become sicker. Marik clung to this realization as the delirium began to eclipse his senses. It was hard to keep it in focus, but deep down he knew it was the complete and absolute truth.

Now Rishid stared into the endearing face, his anger slowly beginning to melt away into the air. Marik looked so crushed! So childlike and crushed! And something was wrong with his eyes. Rishid could see the slightly glassy look that had formed. An alarmed feeling instantly came over him. Had he caused that! By his thoughtless actions, had he actually hurt Marik worse? He remembered how he had shaken the boy so harshly and was ashamed.

"You're right, Rishid," Marik whispered now, turning away. "I'm too ill. I'm too ill to have a stranger who looks like my brother do this to me." The words had left his mouth before he was able to retrieve them. Marik truly was too ill for this anxiety, and that was finally starting to dawn on him. Never would he have said that if he had been in complete control of his senses. He sat with one leg up to his chest and the other stretched on the bed as he stared down blankly at the comforter quilt. His vision swam in and out of focus as he clutched the cloth with a shaking, tan-skinned hand. He had to rest . . . he knew he had to rest. . . .

Now Rishid drew back, stunned back into reality by Marik's words. He had made the rift between them worse. And Marik would never heal this way. Guilt washed over the man that he couldn't have kept his temper in check. The only reason Marik had been standing for such an extended period of time was because he had been trying to get Rishid to believe him. Because he was so desperate to get his brother back. He hadn't been trying to do some horrible thing—just the opposite, actually—and yet Rishid had most likely made him feel like the scum of the earth. Somehow this had to be remedied!

Slowly Rishid reached out for the anguished boy, touching his bare shoulder gently. Marik flinched under his touch, looking obviously distraught and uncertain about what was going to happen now. In his increasing delirium, he couldn't decide whether Rishid was about to hurt him again or not. His spirit continued to fight the feelings with every bit of strength he had left in him, but it was still difficult to triumph over the delusions being created from his illness.

"Marik." Rishid spoke barely above a whisper now, saying the name of the boy he had caused so much pain for. No, he still didn't remember his brother, but he couldn't bear making him so sad, especially when his true motives had been of concern and worry. "Marik, please . . . forgive me," Rishid rasped, feeling his cold exterior melt away. His remorse now was deep and sincere. How could he have gotten so angry! He hadn't meant for it to happen. Not at all! "I was truly concerned about your health, but that was no excuse for my behavior." He paused, having one final internal struggle before at last determining that the best way to get Marik to rest would be to reveal his innermost feelings. And somewhere within him, he found that he loved Marik enough to be willing to be so emotionally vulnerable to him, though only a few moments before he hadn't wanted to speak a word of his true thoughts at all. "The truth is . . . I do wish to trust you. I wish it with all my heart. If you would please promise to rest, I will promise to try to trust you." Rishid looked at Marik pleadingly, feeling as though everything important in his life rode upon the boy's answer. "Can you forgive me, Marik?" He meant every word of what he said. He meant it whole-heartedly. And Marik knew it.

The youth stared up at him, his eyes wide once more. Then he dove into the man's arms, his body racked with sobs. Of course he forgave his brother. He loved his brother. He loved Rishid with all his heart. And his delirium couldn't change that. His body may be delirious, but his spirit wasn't. Rishid's words reached Marik's spirit, touching every part of the boy's broken heart. And once again, slowly but surely, the wounds began to heal.

* * *

The tall, delicate figure pulled the cloak closer around her as she leaned out the window and judged the distance to the ground. Unfortunately, there was no way she could climb down that far, not even if she tied all the clothes in the room together. That was too risky anyway. What were the chances of her getting down without some of them becoming untied under her weight? Not great.

The woman turned back and studied the large room that served as her prison. There had to be another way out. She had scoured every wall, the floor, and even the ceiling for trapdoors or concealed passageways, but she had never found anything in the past. That didn't mean she was giving up, however. Carefully she ran her hand over the paneling decorating the mantle of the fake fireplace, hoping to hear some sort of click or pop—but her efforts were not rewarded.

With a sad sigh she sank into the soft mattress of the bed, her cerulean blue eyes scrutinizing every visible square inch of the room. Every waking thought was now haunted by the memory of the vision she had seen in her mirror. The boy screaming for her to help him . . . reaching out desperately for her hand . . . being pulled under the water. . . . His blood staining the clear liquid red. . . . Whoever he was, her brother or not, she knew she couldn't let such a treacherous fate befall him!

His eyes . . . his dear, panicked lavender eyes always flashed before her. The way he looked up at her, pleading so earnestly for her help, made her want to run to him, to gather him in her arms and tell him how precious he was to her. Again she knew she had loved him once. If she could see him again in real life and not in a vision, perhaps she would remember their past.

She stood once more, beginning to pace about the room with concern and agitation. Unsure of exactly how she would escape the room and begin her search for both the boy and for the king, Ishizu grew more desperate.

A flash of vision came to her then and she grabbed for the bejeweled handle of the dresser drawer, pulling it out slowly and then kneeling down to feel behind it. This chest, in spite of its magnificence, had no true backing to it, and Ishizu found herself feeling the wall. It moved slightly when her fingers touched it and she felt a twinge of exhilaration. There was a secret panel here!

With great care she pushed the dresser along the richly carpeted floor until the entire loose slab of wall was revealed. Now touching it again, Ishizu watched as it began to move outward, triggered by a hidden spring somewhere in its workings. Beyond it there was a great darkness, a great chasm of the unknown, but she was more than willing to brave it. The strange necklace she wore glowed brightly, allowing her to see down the twisting path that lay ahead. With a nod of satisfaction she entered gingerly and braced herself for whatever was to come next.

Behind her she heard the doorknob rattling and Lord Colchis yelling for her loudly. She smiled to herself as the panel closed shut silently. It would take Colchis a while to be able to get into her room, since she had moved the dresser in front of the door. And she would be long gone by the time he found another way inside.

Now she just had to find the ruler and that boy. They were both in the palace somewhere. She was certain of it. She sensed them both. Once she found them, perhaps everything would become clear. She prayed it would. And she prayed that no more innocents would have to die at the hands of the Red Zealot.


	4. Meeting

Rishid brushed a cold cloth across Marik's forehead. The boy had managed to eat most of the food that had been brought to him, but now he was so exhausted and incoherent that the man knew more than ever that he needed to rest again. But now he refused to be angry about it. Marik needed gentleness. Rishid realized that scolding would not help. He hadn't ever meant to scold the boy . . . it was just something that had happened. Something that shouldn't have.

He glanced back over at the plate of applesauce and noticed several spoonfuls left. Marik had simply been too weary to lift the spoon one more time. But he had wanted the rest of the food. The boy had been so very hungry and yet he had barely been able to eat. This made Rishid's heart sad. It seemed Marik had barely been able to do anything that he had wished. Except . . . Rishid admitted to himself that Marik had found his way past this cold man's facade when he had wanted to. Marik had reawakened a side of him that he hadn't known existed. And . . . it felt good.

Rishid barely stopped to think about what he did next. For once today perhaps he could show Marik complete kindness with no defensive shields mixed in. Carefully he took the plate in his hands and raised the spoon. "Here," he said quietly, wondering if Marik was still conscious.

He was. The boy opened glassy eyes and looked through half-open lids. "What . . . what is it?" he asked in confusion, still battling for his vision. He didn't know how he had ever managed to eat the food that he had, when he had barely even been able to see the spoon and plate in front of him. Now he was so exhausted. . . . The last thing he had expected was to find this Rishid offering him something. He had imagined that he probably would have drifted off into senselessness and Rishid would then have gone back to whatever important matters of the kingdom he had been attending to before any of this happened. Instead Rishid was still staying with him.

"You are still hungry," Rishid replied. "I will feed you the rest." He gave no explanation and simply continued to hold the spoon out.

Marik struggled to gaze up at him. "You . . . you will?" he asked. His mind couldn't comprehend. "Why? I . . . I thought you'd probably have other things that you would find more important." After all, Rishid had an entire kingdom to manage. But he chose to remain with this injured, strange boy instead?

Rishid let him eat the applesauce from the spoon. "Because you deserve it is why," he said finally, not addressing Marik's last remark. "Whoever you are, I can see you are courageous and strong-willed. And stubborn." He grunted a bit, partially from real irritation and partially from the same in mocking.

"'Whoever I am'?" Marik repeated, slowly eating another spoonful as Rishid offered it. A morose look came over him. "You said that . . . that if I rested, you would trust my story." Rishid surely wouldn't have only been saying that just to get him to lay down . . . would he have? In the past, Rishid never would have dreamed of it. Marik couldn't believe that the man's sense of honor had changed. He had been pretty much the same Rishid as always when Marik had seen him in the throne room, despite the barrier he had built around his heart. When the youth was a bit depressed, he would remember how Rishid had viciously snapped the cruel spear in two and then tended to the vicious wounds he, Marik, had sustained. That made him feel much better, as did the fact that Rishid was staying here still caring for him.

Rishid sighed. "That, I did promise," he agreed. And he intended to try his best to make good on his promise. It was hard, however, to suddenly address and think of the boy positively as his brother. But he would try. He helped Marik finish the rest of the applesauce, lost deeply in thought while he did so.

When Marik was finished, he licked his lips and laid back against the soft pillow, gratitude in the weary eyes and smile. "Thank you, Rishid," he whispered. He took a few sips of water and then tried to burrow into the quilt. Still there was so much he needed to do. . . . Ishizu still had to be found. Marik had to help Rishid regain his memory. They had to fight the evil one who was destroying the kingdom. But for now, the poor boy had to sleep. That was what he had to concentrate on, and Rishid would make certain he did.

"You have more than earned a quiet, uninterrupted slumber," Rishid told him as the boy rolled onto his side and almost immediately drifted off, ignoring the wounds he was laying on. Marik's body was so battered . . . so wounded. . . . But the youth had barely noticed any of the pain at all. He was so determined to help Rishid remember that he had been more than willing to risk his own well-being to do so. And now he was simply too exhausted to notice the pain.

A soft light shone in Rishid's golden eyes as he adjusted the quilt better around the gentle boy's weak form. He was finding himself being more and more content and free when he was around this young spirit. And as the hours wore on, he couldn't imagine ever not having him around. Marik was deeply entwined in Rishid's heart and soul, whether the man wanted to consciously admit it or not.

Now Marik tossed around in the bed with a soft moan, looking pained. Gently Rishid brushed the boy's bangs aside and touched the warm forehead, narrowing his eyes in concern. Was Marik getting a fever? Could any of his wounds be infected? Rishid wouldn't doubt it, after everything the youth had come through and done.

"Oh you foolish, foolish boy," Rishid growled. He struggled to get his brother to hold still without hurting him, and Marik relaxed under his grip, whispering in a language Rishid didn't know. Those in the kingdom of Juno all spoke English, save for a small village of Celtic descent. And Marik definitely wasn't speaking in the Celtic language.

Rishid gazed at Marik again, observing something else as he gently removed his hands from the boy's shoulders. Their skin was darker than many of those in the land. Supposing they were adopted brothers. . . . What sort of country had they come from? Marik had said they belonged in Domino City, but Rishid didn't know at all where that was. Rishid had noticed Marik's tanned skin as soon as the boy had stumbled into the throne room the previous evening, but he had determined that he wouldn't use that to decide whether Marik was telling the truth or not. Marik could even be using his darker skin to try to make Rishid think they were related. That was actually something Rishid had thought a while ago. But not anymore. Perhaps they were brothers, separated by an unfair twist of fate and now reunited.

Rishid was accepting this thought more now as he watched Marik. He had wished so bad over the past hours that Marik actually was his brother, and now he was starting to genuinely believe it could be true. And if it were . . . Rishid realized that he had treated the boy so terribly. Guilt washed over him. Some of what he had said and done he never would have wanted to say and do to his brother. Marik obviously loved him very much and Rishid wanted to return that love. He just wasn't completely certain how. He felt that his heart had been sealed up for such a long time and that it was hard to show any love to anyone. But perhaps he could learn again. He wanted to.

Certain that Marik could not hear him, Rishid laid a hand on his shoulder gently. "There is nothing more important to me now than you," he said in a quiet tone, remembering Marik's comment from earlier. "Nothing at all."

And Marik smiled.

* * *

Ishizu crept down the tunnel, narrowing her eyes as her foot became entangled in yet another cobweb. The path seemed to go on endlessly, with multitudes of twists and turns that were unexpected. Not to mention the booby traps. Obviously this wasn't a good place to trespass. Spears had shot out of the stone walls, tearing holes through Ishizu's white cape and barely missing her delicate skin. Then, when she had traveled a bit further, part of the ceiling had tried to move down and crush her. Never could she forget the horrid shaking as the marble had come closer, ever closer to her. No matter where she had moved, the section of ceiling above her had began to lower. Only after falling down a steep staircase had she finally been safe. And now, as Ishizu struggled to extract herself from the silky entrapment she was in, she found that the floor underneath her was starting to crumble. For all she knew, there could be a bed of spikes waiting below.

Frantically the woman undid the necklace she was wearing and used one of its two odd, pointed decorations to cut through the thick web. She wished she knew why she had the jewelry. It had been with her when she had woken up in the palace wing with Lord Colchis bending over her to see if she was badly hurt. He had refused to tell her anything about who she was and instead had simply said that he had found her and rescued her from some sort of danger. She could see the future, he had said, and now that he had saved her she owed her services to the palace as a priestess. Perhaps it was the necklace that gave her the powers she possessed, she thought now as she managed to get free.

But it didn't give her the power to get away from the collapsing stones. As she darted forward, trying so desperately to get to safety in time, the entire section of flooring gave out at once and sent her falling into the darkness. Though she hadn't wanted it to happen, her mouth opened in a piercing scream that echoed down every corridor.

Abruptly her horrifying fall was brought to a halt as she landed with a splash in shallow water. After laying dazed for several long moments, Ishizu slowly pulled herself onto her hands and knees and tried to study her surroundings. It was so dark all around her. . . . She could see nothing, but sounds seemed plentiful. Every now and then came the firm plink plink of dripping water from nearby. Up ahead, perhaps outside, Ishizu could hear water rushing fast and frantic. She must have wound up in the basement, the woman decided. A far cry from where she had wanted to be.

She also was almost certain she could hear something moving in the water with her. What could it be! Ishizu froze, hoping that by going completely still she could determine better. But whatever it was froze right along with her.

A soft glow abruptly came from under the water, giving light to Ishizu's predicament. It took her a moment to comprehend, but then she realized that the strange necklace was what was doing this. Carefully she lifted it out from the dark liquid and replaced it around her throat before looking around desperately to see her stalker.

What met her eyes was a horrible, grisly sight. Not only was she in the basement, but it seemed to have been an old dungeon in years past. Rusted, bloodied shackles hung from every wall and various instruments of torment had been placed on high shelves. Skeletal hands were fastened in at least half of the shackles, and most of those still had the rest of the corpse attached as well. Mutilated cloth, obviously whatever remained of these poor souls' garments, was draped across some of their remains. Ishizu tensed and backed up against the nearest wall, her heart racing. How would she get out of this! These people had never been able to escape.

Several bones floated past her in the murky water, as if daring her to follow their path. Ishizu watched as they headed in the direction of the nearest corner . . . and then were abruptly pulled below the surface, one by one. She hadn't been wrong in her fear. Something else living was down here, and it wasn't friendly. And after another intense look around, Ishizu knew again that there was no way out.

It was coming toward her now. She saw the water moving, but because of the darkness of it she couldn't make out any shapes underneath. Wait . . . there was more than one. They were coming at her from every available direction. Green, bumpy skin started to rise from the water, hungry yellow eyes gleaming amid the near-darkness as they lighted upon the hapless Ishizu. Crocodiles! There were crocodiles down here!

The one nearest to her snapped out with its enormous jaws and took hold of Ishizu's palace gown, apparently wanting to pull her to its ravenous mouth. Grabbing a nearby rib bone, Ishizu fought back viciously and hit the reptile repeatedly between the eyes and on the top of its mouth. The crocodile hissed loudly at her and only pulled harder on the skirt of her dress. And instead of the material simply just tearing free, as she wished it would as opposed to the alternatives, she found herself losing her balance and starting to topple into the water. The beasts all gathered around as she fell, confident that they would get their meal.

But nothing happened. Ishizu drew her breath in sharply as she felt a comforting embrace settle around her. Something . . . or someone . . . was protecting her. And the crocodiles knew it. Slowly they began to back up in the water, looking apprehensive and actually a bit terrified. Before long they had all vanished under the surface again, swimming in the opposite direction and obviously wanting to get away as fast as they could.

Ishizu now let out the breath she had been holding as she straightened up again. The feeling of peace was still with her. Though she didn't know how or why, she knew that her life had just been saved. "Thank you," she whispered quietly, wishing she could see her savior. "Whoever you are, I thank you deeply." She didn't know who was here. The spirits of those who had once been prisoners, perhaps? Maybe they hadn't wanted another poor soul to suffer their fate. Or perhaps . . . perhaps it was someone else. A departed loved one?

She felt a gentle squeeze, as if she had been lovingly hugged once more, and then the presence was gone. But now she had renewed hope. There had to be some way out. If nothing else, she could follow the water until she found where it went outside. She would get out. She refused to allow herself to wind up as the unfortunate ones of the past had. Not when she had a brother and a king to find.

* * *

Rishid bent over Marik worriedly. He had been doing this a lot in the past few minutes, but recently the injured boy had fallen so still that Rishid, frankly, had grown quite worried in spite of himself. He couldn't comprehend why Marik had suddenly stopped moving. That shouldn't have happened. It hadn't been that long ago when Marik had been tossing around in obvious distress. Now he was so quiet . . . and not the way he was when he was just sleeping peacefully.

"Please," Rishid whispered softly, feeling his heart being wrenched around within his chest. "Oh, Marik . . . what is wrong? You cannot leave me!" His true feelings were manifesting themselves before he could make any move to stop them. And he didn't care. He still recalled how he had softly assured Marik that he was the most important thing to him. And it was true. In the back of his mind—but more so in his heart—Rishid knew it was. The boy was a precious treasure sent to him from God, and Rishid refused to lose him now!

But surely Marik wasn't so ill that he would . . . pass on. . . . Rishid had been certain that the boy would get better. Carefully he leaned down until his ear was pressed against Marik's chest. Hearing the soft thump of Marik's beating heart, the man straightened up again in relief and gave a soft smile. Of course the youth would live. It was foolish to think otherwise.

A knock on the door startled him out of further thought.

"Lord Odion?"

Rishid grunted. More than likely the vaguely familiar voice belonged to one of the servants who was so incompetent that he couldn't take care of his assignment all by himself, the man thought with irritation. But then again, it could be serious news coming to him. Coldly he called through the heavy slab separating them, asking what the person wanted and if it was really important enough for him to be bothered with.

A nervous gulp was heard clearly from the hallway and Rishid deduced that the one fumbling to get himself under control was the messenger boy who had brought the news of the attack on Moghur several weeks previous. Indeed, his quavering voice could suddenly be heard. "Lord Odion, I hate to be the one to report this, but . . ."

Instantly Rishid flung the door open and glared daggers at this younger man. Just once Rishid wished he would show some backbone. The messenger boy wasn't much older than Marik (perhaps a year or two. Rishid had determined that Marik was about sixteen), but so far Rishid had never seen the same strength and boldness in him as he saw all the time in the enigmatic tan-skinned youth who was laying half-deceased in his bed. "Well, what is it?" Rishid snarled. "If you have something to say, you should simply say it. I have other ways to spend my time than standing at the door waiting to hear you speak!"

The young courier tugged on his collar absentmindedly as his loose brown hair flopped into his eyes. "I . . . I . . . forgive me, Lord Odion," he stammered at last, giving a low, sweeping bow almost to the floor. Rishid always intimidated him so! And he knew the ruler would not be happy with the news he had brought. Always he dreaded coming to speak with Rishid. Usually he would say such things as that he'd rather fall into a cactus plant instead of telling the king bad news. "The . . . the truth is, sir, that the Red Zealot had struck again. . . ." He closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the explosion of anger he knew would come.

But, though Rishid was understandably enraged at this information, he forced himself not to bellow. He didn't want to disturb Marik, not when the boy was getting some of the rest he so badly needed. "Where?" he demanded coldly, gripping the doorframe. He had failed again to stop a massacre! Again he felt that he was the wrong person to be king over this land. How could he feel otherwise, when he couldn't protect the people from this menace? Everything he had tried had fizzled out. And never had he even come close to finding the Red Zealot.

The messenger boy began to play with the feather on his cap. "It happened in that small village over yonder, sir," he said finally, pointing out the window. "The . . . the army was supposed to go there, but . . ."

"They never arrived," Rishid finished for him with a growl. He suspected by now that someone (or someones) in the army were part of the problem, and he had had spies watching the soldiers for weeks, but nothing out of the ordinary had been reported. Rishid truly despised all of this. It was absolutely impossible to know who he could trust. Perhaps even the entire army and and the spies were all corrupt. The entire problem was driving him mad.

"That's right, Lord Odion," the courier admitted softly. Truthfully, he thought Rishid was doing all he could to capture the Red Zealot. There wasn't a whole lot that could be done in a case so strange as this, but Rishid had tried it all. And though the man was angry and cold much of the time, this young soul had decided that there was a perfectly good reason for that. There was so much weighing on his shoulders right now. No one could expect him to be cheerful.

Rishid gritted his teeth. "How many are dead?"

"Almost a third of the people, sir," the messenger boy told him.

He glanced behind Rishid and saw Marik laying still in the bed. So this was the strange boy he had heard about, he thought to himself. And the reason, most likely, for Rishid's struggle for (relative) calmness—he didn't want to wake the teen up.

Marik's presence in the palace had caused quite a stir. Everyone had been talking of how Rishid had taken the poor thing in under his wing, so to speak, and was trying to nurse him back to health. Some seemed to disapprove of the man's actions. The courier had heard whispered things about Marik such as "No matter how innocent he looks, he could be the Red Zealot" and "He could be hiding an evil, devious mind," but as for himself, he trusted Rishid's judgement. If Rishid had decided that the boy was worth helping, then this courier could live with that. He was actually very happy that Rishid was so much different than the past kings the kingdom had dealt with. None of the other kings would have so much as lifted a finger to help Marik if he had wound up in their throne rooms battered and bleeding and talking of any of them being his brother. They would have imprisoned him or even perhaps killed him on the spot.

Rishid followed the courier's gaze. "Find out what's happening to my army!" he bellowed quietly, advancing back into the room and going to Marik's side. He could see that the youth was looking very pale. "And bring me the palace doctor—NOW!" Gently he raised Marik's limp arm and took his pulse.

The messenger boy watched him, swallowing hard. "Of . . . of course, Lord Odion. Right away!" he assured his ruler, heading out the door. As if suddenly having a second thought, he peered back in again with concerned eyes. "He . . . he is going to get better, isn't he?" Marik wasn't that much younger than he himself and he hated the thought of one so close to him in age being brought to the end of his mortal existence. What was more, he knew it would crush Rishid if the boy perished.

Rishid dipped a cloth in cool water and then began to dab it across Marik's face. "He is going to be fine," the man growled in a warning sort of tone, signaling that the courier had best do his bidding now instead of asking questions. Especially questions that he himself really didn't know the answer to.

The messenger boy swallowed hard and then saluted Rishid shakily before hastening to do his duty. Rishid barely noticed as the lanky youth left, so intent was he on helping Marik.

Such an innocent boy, Rishid thought to himself as Marik gave a rasping breath. Not innocent in the way of naivete—Marik couldn't be further from that—but in the way of having a pure heart. And, even if just for a moment, Rishid felt that he would give his very life to keep this soul alive.

* * *

Ishizu felt her way along the weather-beaten wall, her heart finally slowing to its normal speed. Since the crocodiles had retreated, nothing else had tried to hinder her on her way. Something in her heart told her that she was desperately needed by someone—right now. No matter what, she had to find this person. Was it the boy from her dreams? Was it the king? Or both of them? 

Ishizu clutched the small pouch she was wearing around her neck, hoping that she had brought the right herbs to save whoever needed them. Many things were a mystery to her, not the least of which was why she had to bring this bag with her. But she had learned that she had to follow her inner feelings, and so she had brought it.

She had just barely tucked it away again when she felt the cold grip of a familiar hand on her shoulder. A wicked, strong, clammy hand.

"Ah, Isis. Isis, my dear. Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Lord Colchis's unwelcome tones floated down to her and she froze. This was the last person she wanted to see! How could he interfere now, when she needed so badly to get to someone! Colchis would never let her go, not if he could help it.

"You shouldn't be out wandering," Colchis said now, speaking smoothly. "Do allow me to . . . escort you back." He dug his fingernails sharply into her flesh.

Wordlessly Ishizu now wrenched his hand away, moving back from the panel where he was leaning out. If only she could get through the opening without worrying about this man! It might be her only hope. "You are not a prison master," Ishizu said coldly. "Especially not mine. I will do what I please. And now I will be on my way." The last thing she wanted to do was show any fear, even though her heart was racing wildly. She didn't know how on earth Colchis had tracked her down here. Had he found the passageway and known where she was likely to end up! But how could he have unless he already knew the panel in her room was there and was familiar with its paths? And why would he have locked her in that room if he had known?

"Spunky little girl, aren't you." Colchis grinned, gripping Ishizu's chin. She retaliated by kicking him harshly, forcing him back and trying to get past him into the entranceway of the tunnel. Ishizu was frantic. She had to get to those who needed her! She couldn't waste her time here!

Colchis grabbed her cape and pulled, tearing it loose from her bare shoulders. "You know something!" he screamed, all facades of being gentlemanly gone. He reached for the back of Ishizu's dress to pull her to him, a crazed look in his eyes. "WHAT IS IT YOU KNOW!" She must have all the secrets he wanted so desperately! That was why she was trying to get away! His grip tightened. He couldn't allow her to leave him. He couldn't ever allow it.

Ishizu struggled against him with all of her might, pulling free at last and leaving Colchis with the part of her dress that had once covered her shoulder blades. Desperately she ran past him and into the passageway. Never would she tell this abomination anything!

She knew he was following her. She could hear his furious footsteps crashing on the stones behind her, but she refused to turn around and look. Feeling along the wall in desperation, Ishizu discovered a loose block and she struggled to move it. Please! she prayed, pulling harder. At last it came free, opening a panel in the wall. Quickly the woman ran through, shoving it closed again before Colchis rounded the corner.

But surely he knew of the panel. More than likely he would come through at any moment. Swallowing hard, Ishizu looked for something to push against the door and noticed a heavy latch over at the side. She hastened to get it into place, gripping the wooden beam with her delicate hands and struggling to move it even an inch. It seemed to be stuck.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!"

Ishizu froze at the booming voice. She wasn't alone. Slowly she turned to lock eyes with the one she had intruded on and found herself gazing up at a striking, well-dressed man only a handful of years older than she was. Piercing golden eyes glared at her searchingly and his hands were outstretched as if to seize her.

"Explain yourself, woman," the man said now in a quieter tone, seeing the alarmed and shocked look in her eyes. "Why have you entered my private quarters?"

Ishizu became acutely aware of her drenched appearance. Her dress had been torn by both the crocodiles and Colchis. A large part was missing from the upper back and nearly half the skirt was missing on one side. She pressed herself against the wall as the man came closer, her bare shoulders touching the smoothness of the marble panel. "I . . . I was fleeing from one who was pursuing me," she admitted then.

The man raised an eyebrow at her. "Why were you being pursued?" he demanded.

Ishizu drew in her breath sharply. Did she dare trust him? What if he was working with Colchis? But still . . . there was something about him . . . something familiar. Those eyes . . . she knew those eyes. . . . Such a deep, rich golden. She knew that this man would not harm her. He wasn't the type to hurt any woman. Somehow she knew. And so she spoke.

"Because . . . because of what he believes I know," she replied, her gaze never wavering.

The stranger watched her, impressed with her strong spirit. Perhaps, he thought, this woman was someone who could help him. And he had noticed her dark skin, similar to his own and Marik's. Idly he remembered Marik saying that they had a sister. This could be her. "What is your name?" Rishid asked now.

Ishizu told him the only name she remembered. "Isis." It was actually her middle name in reality, and for reasons unknown Colchis had decided to call her that.

Rishid looked at her again. Such an interesting female. Here she was, standing in a badly torn dress, dripping water all over the floor and bleeding from several small wounds in her body, and she was standing proudly to gaze into his eyes. He imagined Marik being like that. He knew Marik was like that. Such strong spirits.

Now he noticed something else. "What is that?" He pointed to the pouch hanging around Ishizu's neck. Marik had again lapsed into complete unconsciousness and hadn't responded to anything since then. Rishid didn't know how to help him. He only knew he had to find a way. Perhaps, he hoped, there was something in the pouch that could. It was a ridiculous thing to wish for, he knew, but he couldn't help it. Marik's life was at stake! He didn't know that he'd ever been so worried about another's life as he was about Marik's.

Ishizu took the bag in her hands. "I was carrying herbs," she said softly.

"Could you help a boy who has been badly wounded?"

Ishizu caught her breath. The boy from her dreams? Would she be able to help him? Was this why she had brought the herbs she had? She knew that they helped heal wounds. "I will do my best," she said aloud, trying to see around Rishid.

He grunted in approval and turned away, leading Ishizu into the room. Ishizu gasped when she saw Marik laying pale and still in the bed. She knew him—from her dreams, yes, but also from her heart. From a lost part of her memory returned the boy's name, and Ishizu cried it out as she dropped to her knees at the bedside and gripped Marik's cold hand. She could see the boy before her so clearly in her memories—laying so very ill after being bitten by a snake. He was younger then.

Abruptly the present situation came back to her then and she swallowed hard, the tears coming as she saw wounds on the teen's shoulders and arms. When she pulled the quilt down slowly, she discovered the injuries in his chest as well. And strange thoughts came to her mind. Still he was having problems. Still he was unable to have a quiet, normal life. Perhaps he never would.

Rishid stared at her while all of this happened. She did know the boy! Was this more evidence that Marik was telling the truth? He was about to ask how she knew Marik when the panel on the other side of the room rattled.

Ishizu's head shot up and her eyes widened. Colchis! She had forgotten about closing the panel! Now he was coming in! She bent over Marik, as if hoping to protect him from the madman. He looked so defenseless! What would she do if Colchis decided to hurt Marik for some reason?

The unwanted man eased himself into the room angrily. "ISIS!" he screamed. "Where the devil have you gone!" His crazed look melted when he saw Rishid glaring at him suspiciously. He had had no idea of the room he would wind up in. Certainly he hadn't expected the royal quarters. What Rishid must think of him now! "Oh! Lord Odion! My apologies." He gave a low bow, his cape sweeping the room. As he bent to the floor, he caught a glimpse of Ishizu out of the corner of his eye and smiled to himself. He would weave a nice little tale and convince Rishid to let him take the woman back with him. That was where she belonged. He had ways of making her talk, ways of probing her mind for what he wanted. And he would make certain Ishizu didn't escape him again. Fafnir would be very displeased if that happened.

Ishizu looked at Colchis stonily, never moving from Marik's side. At the cruel man's greeting the woman froze. This man whose quarters she had entered was the king! He was so familiar, just as Marik was! She was so certain she knew him! Her gaze turned back to him, her ocean blue eyes wide. Why would she feel that she knew the king? She had never met him before. At least . . . she hadn't thought she ever had.

Rishid ignored her. "What is it you want, Colchis?" he growled. "Have you news of the Red Zealot?" He didn't trust this man at all, no matter how recommended he came. There was just a darkness that came from all around him whenever he entered a room—not to mention the way he was always so casual about relaying news of the Red Zealot's attacks. The matter was serious, not something to be addressed as blindly as the weather!

"Unfortunately, no, my lord," Colchis said smoothly. "I have been looking for Isis here. You see, she has delusions often and seems to think she can see the future. Poor girl was a victim in one of the Red Zealot's massacres and therefore she went a bit . . . well, out of her mind." He gave Isis an ugly smirk and she glared fiercely at him, never moving from where she was gently wrapping the herbal leaves over Marik's wounds.

"She appears sane to me," Rishid retorted. And he was definitely going to trust his own judgment over that of Colchis's.

"Oh, I'm certain she would, my lord," Colchis agreed, coming over closer. "She appears that way most of the time. But when she tells of her visions, it is obvious her mind is fading. Don't allow her to waste your time, Lord Odion. I will gladly take her off your hands." He reached out to grab Ishizu's arm and she slapped him violently, causing him to reel back several paces.

Rishid hid his amusement. He enjoyed seeing Colchis get beaten back by someone, especially this defiant woman. "Now see here, Isis," he growled, turning to face her.

Ishizu looked at him calmly. "Yes?" She never missed a beat in re-bandaging the wounds on Marik's chest. Colchis didn't intimidate her, and if Rishid was going to scold her for slapping the man, she didn't care. All she cared about was saving Marik's life.

Rishid shook his head, apparently deciding to forget whatever he was about to say to her. Instead he turned to Colchis in anger, using the same technique as he had on his insolent servants. "You are questioning my judgement, Colchis," he said coldly. "You know I don't tolerate that."

Colchis clenched his fist tightly. Oh, how he despised this man! If only he could be rid of him. . . . Perhaps he could rise up against both Rishid and Fafnir and then claim the talisman for himself. That wasn't a bad idea. He would just need the perfect strategy. And for that, deep thought was needed. Perhaps Ishizu could stay where she was for now. Rishid would be dead soon and then Colchis would take the woman back. Meanwhile, there were still ways for him to do what he wanted without the assistance of Ishizu's visions. "Yes, I know, my lord," the conniving man said aloud, an apologetic look coming over him. "I am sorry. It's just that . . . I've been around her longer and . . ."

Rishid grabbed him by the amulet he was wearing around his neck. "I trust my judgement. And even if she cannot predict the future, she seems harmless. I will keep her here for now." He glanced back at Ishizu as she lovingly took care of Marik's other wounds. Yes . . . she was definitely this boy's sister. But . . . she hadn't seemed to know him. Perhaps, Rishid thought, if I am an adopted brother, I was not important enough to her that she would remember me. He couldn't know that Ishizu did find him familiar, but wasn't saying so.

Colchis nodded obediently. "Of course, Lord Odion," he agreed, bowing again and heading for the door. "Your judgement is wise."

Rishid watched him go, not convinced of his loyalty. And he couldn't help but notice the way he had leered at Ishizu. That made his blood boil. He realized that he felt the same protective feeling toward Ishizu as he had with Marik.

Ishizu seemed not to have noticed the look she had been given. She straightened up, looking at Marik with soft, kind eyes. "I have done what I can," she said quietly. "All we can do now is pray." She was about to sit down wearily in a chair when Rishid stopped her.

"You need something better to wear," the man grunted. "Something that hasn't been torn and eaten away, not to mention completely soaked. I don't want to deal with two sick people."

Ishizu bristled slightly at his cold tone. "I can assure you, Lord Odion, that you will not have to 'deal' with me," she said smoothly. "I have clothes in the east wing, which I will only be too happy to retrieve. But after I do so, with your permission I wish to stay with this boy." She smiled tenderly down at Marik as he gave a soft moan. She loved the youth already. Well, no, she couldn't really say "already," since she seemed to have known and loved him before. But now she was rediscovering that love.

Rishid grunted. "I want you to stay with him, especially if you can actually help." He paused for a long time, mulling something over in his mind. At last he spoke again. "But don't call me 'Lord Odion.' I don't like that. Call me Rishid." It was a big step on his part for him to say this, as it meant he was lowering the defensive shields that he had kept raised for so long. And he was out loud accepting something Marik had told him.

Ishizu looked at him, her deep blue eyes showing how deep in thought she was. Rishid . . . Rishid. . . . She knew the name. . . . "Alright," she said aloud, finding herself smiling. "I will call you Rishid."


	5. Foul Memories

Rishid watched the mysterious Egyptian woman as she bent over Marik again, whispering soothing words and brushing his bangs back from the closed eyes. Her silky black hair cascaded freely over her shoulders and touched upon Marik's as she laid her ear against the boy's chest to listen for the heartbeat. Before long Ishizu straightened up again, smiling softly as she reported that Marik's heart was thumping at a normal speed. She sat on the edge of the bed, taking the youth's hand and holding it close.

Since Rishid had been so distrusting of Colchis, he hadn't thought it would be good for Ishizu to wander outside of his quarters. Therefore, he had made his messenger boy bring all of the woman's belongings from the far wing once the doctor had arrived. (The doctor then had found that Ishizu was doing the best job helping to heal Marik and therefore she should stay while he departed.) Now Ishizu had chosen her favorite garment to wear-a lovely, modest, off-white dress with a wide brass belt and a short cape in back. A bit of jewelry adorned her arms and also her ankles, and several chains hung from the belt. The clothing and accessories were obviously not from this kingdom. Rishid gathered, correctly, that they were from Ishizu's and Marik's homeland. And his as well, if he could only remember.

"Do you remember that boy?" he asked finally, watching as Ishizu fingered one of the gold earrings Marik always wore. "You act as though you do."

Ishizu looked up at him carefully. "Don't you remember him?" she returned smoothly.

Rishid stared at her. What sort of odd question was that? Why would she think he would remember Marik? As far as he knew, he had given no hints that Marik insisted they were brothers. "I am the king of this land," he said coldly, standing up and crossing to the window. "I see no reason why I would have ever known this boy before he was dragged into my throne room, battered and bleeding."

Ishizu gave a half-smile. "Colchis said I am delusional and that I believe I have visions," she replied. "But I know I have them. Marik insisted that you were his adopted brother when he wound up in your throne room." She had only had that vision very recently, during the time when she had been changing into the dress that she wore now. She had witnessed the entire scene: Marik's pleading, Rishid's anger and near-violence toward him, the guards' actual violence toward him, and Rishid's breaking the spear and having Marik taken to his private quarters. And this woman was very willing to believe it all, but not because of gullibility-instead because it just felt right to her. In her heart, she knew it was true-what Marik claimed.

And that meant that she was the sister to both of them. Suddenly she belonged somewhere. She wasn't just a palace priestess needed only for her psychic abilities and who could be easily discarded if another was found who could do the same. Now she had two precious brothers to love and treasure. And though at least one of them didn't remember her very well, nor she him, Ishizu believed that they had all been a happy family at one time. It was not a coincidence that they had all met up again after whatever separations they had gone through. The Supreme Being wanted them to be reunited.

Ishizu became acutely aware of the piercing gaze Rishid was giving her. But she simply smiled. She was testing him now, trying to see what he made of all this. Rishid had had doubts about the truthfulness of Marik's story, and he still may, but for some reason another part of him believed that Marik actually was his brother. Ishizu wanted to see how much he believed it.

"This is true," Rishid said then, "but it is common knowledge across the palace." Again he faced the window, staring at the twinkling lights of the vast world outside.

Ishizu gave a slow nod. "Is it also common knowledge about the tattoos you both have?" she said, picking her words carefully. She was certain speaking of this would make Rishid listen. Ishizu hadn't been allowed to know (or "re-know") everything about the marks that both Rishid and Marik had, but what she had been allowed to know was that the tattoos were part of the special bond the two brothers shared.

And Rishid did turn and fix her with a stare, touching the carvings in his face. "Enough of this," he growled. "If you have visions, tell me about Fafnir." He had never forgotten how Marik had said that Fafnir was the one behind the Red Zealot scheme and the entire disruption of the kingdom. And Rishid supposed that if he was going to believe that he and Marik were brothers-with possibly Ishizu as the sister-he also needed to believe what Marik had said about Fafnir. At least he needed to consider it, no matter how treasonous it sounded.

"Fafnir?" Ishizu looked completely disinterested in the subject as she recited what Colchis had told her. "Those around the kingdom sing his praises. He was the one who delivered the villages from the last catastrophe and put things in order." But there was something that seemed . . . fake about him. At least in Ishizu's eyes. From pictures and statues she had seen of Fafnir around the palace, he reminded her more than anything of Colchis. They seemed to be the same kind of men-outwardly charming when they wanted to be, but inwardly devious and deceiving.

"You don't care for him," Rishid observed, coming over and sitting on the other side of the bed. Perhaps he imagined it, but Marik seemed to relax more now that both siblings were beside him.

Ishizu chose her words carefully. "I do not trust him," she said at last. Saying this was actually quite a risk on her part, as saying anything against Fafnir in this kingdom was as bad as cursing the king. But she trusted Rishid.

Rishid made an unintelligible grunt. "Why don't you?" he pressed, his gaze drifting down to the boy between them. Marik shivered vaguely and pulled up the quilt around himself.

"There are several reasons," Ishizu replied. When Rishid continued to want to know, she finally told of how Fafnir reminded her of Colchis. They had the same nasty spark in their eyes and the same thin smile. In fact, she thought, they could almost be brothers. She didn't say that part aloud, though. But she did tell Rishid that she had, indeed, had a vision or two concerning Fafnir-and they hadn't been pleasant. Rishid kept his feelings from her well, and she couldn't decipher whether he believed her or not. But he hadn't said she was guilty of treason, so she supposed that was something.

"What about you?" she asked after a stretch of silence.

Rishid gave her a sideways glance. "I only know what I've been told about Fafnir," he said, determining what she was asking about. "And I never actually stopped to look at any of the statues or paintings of him." The fact was, he hadn't been interested in doing so. With so many things pressing on his mind, how could he possibly have time to stop and look at art, even of the most renowned man in the kingdom?

Ishizu just smiled. "But do you believe what you've been told?" she wanted to know. Carefully she leaned over and adjusted a bandage around Marik's arm.

"I never know what to believe," Rishid retorted. "Not anymore."

"But you believe Marik." Ishizu now looked up into those golden eyes again, her cerulean orbs piercing into his soul.

Rishid met her gaze firmly before breaking it and again looking at the youth who was either still asleep or unconscious. "Yes," he admitted, "I believe Marik. He has an honest soul."

Ishizu took the cloth and the bowl of water by the bed and again rubbed the soft material over Marik's flesh. She was rewarded when his eyes fluttered open and gazed up at her in disbelief. But she was surprised by the hue. Such a deep lavender, just as she'd seen from her vision. Or remembered from elsewhere. . . .

"Hello," she said softly, not able to help smiling at him.

Marik blinked once, then twice. Was it . . . was his sister here! He knew he'd thought he had heard her voice, but he had been certain it had only been in his dream. But no! Here she was, sitting beside him in all her glory! Ishizu was an earth-bound angel to Marik. Her patience was endless and her kindness and love surpassing that of any woman he knew. Marik wanted to speak to her. He wanted to ask her if she remembered him and to hug her tightly. But no matter how he tried, he couldn't seem to speak at first. So instead he reached his arms out, tears glistening in his eyes, and prayed that Ishizu would embrace him.

And she did. While Rishid looked on, Ishizu leaned down and held Marik close to her. The woman smiled when Marik struggled to fold his arms around her waist, desperately wanting to hug his sister, whom he hadn't seen for so very long.

"Marik," Ishizu said softly, the far-off look coming into her eyes again. "My Marik, the younger brother I love. . . ." Her fingers found the tattoo scars on his bare back and she inwardly winced at the thought of such cruelty being unleashed upon one so undeserving of it.

Marik gazed up at her. "Do you . . . remember me, sister?" he managed to ask in a rasping tone, his eyes bright and hopeful.

Ishizu hated to dash that hope. She exchanged a quick look with Rishid, her stomach churning, before she finally decided to kiss Marik's forehead and whisper, "My heart does," as she held him closer.

Marik seemed to accept this answer and settled into her embrace. He looked over at Rishid, wondering what was going through his elder brother's mind. He himself had been enduring many painful and frustrating dreams once again and he was grateful to be conscious now. With everything that was going on, sleep had become a burden. He wanted to stay awake and resolve the calamities that were going on, not revisit falling off the back of a dragon when the creature was attacked by one of Fafnir's own dragons.

Rishid met the youth's gaze, his eyes showing no emotion at first but then softening. "I'm glad you are back among the living," the stern man said with a gentle chuckle. His life had changed so much in just twenty-four hours! Never would he have imagined such a life for himself. He had assumed that he would be living out the rest of his life serving as the ruler of Juno. Now he suddenly had a family to care for. And, while ruling Juno seemed uncomfortable and out of place, being here with these two was natural and calming.

Marik smiled softly. Things may not be exactly as he wished, but he had found both of his siblings, and he could see that they were both willing to trust him. And that was enough to make him content for now.

* * *

The next few hours passed by with some semblance of peace. Marik rested while Ishizu and Rishid talked to each other and to him, and every now and then the boy supplied comments of his own when the topic turned to what was going on in Juno.

"I know Fafnir is involved," the boy said grimly, leaning into the soft pillows of the bed. He didn't feel dizzy nor as weak as he had before. The herbs Ishizu had given him, as well as just having her and Rishid there beside him, had given him strength. Carefully he changed his position, trying to see if his wounds were being any more lenient about letting him. He smiled weakly to himself when he succeeded in shifting more onto his left side and then winced upon jarring his injured leg. "Ow." He hissed in pain, irritation spreading across his features.

"Don't move around so much," Rishid growled. "Even if Fafnir is involved, there isn't much you can do about it right now."

Marik glowered at the floor, knowing Rishid was right.

"Why do you believe he is part of this, Marik?" Ishizu asked quietly. Her cerulean eyes gazed into Marik's soft lavender orbs when he looked up once more. She could see that Marik believed this with all his heart, and she wanted to know if he had proof.

Marik's eyes hardened. "Because his minions were the ones who detained me," he replied, remembering of the first one he had encountered. Also what came to mind was the memory of when he had actually met Fafnir himself, and he decided to tell that story first, as it was very important in this mess. "The people here are blind. When I first arrived in the land . . ." The boy paused, clenching his fists. "I saw Fafnir riding through Moghur in a carriage. He purposely tried to have me run down and then called me something that I won't even repeat." The boy's weak form shook with obvious anger and it was all he could do to keep his temper in check. Marik had a notorious way of exploding with a sometimes almost uncontrollable rage, but usually his reasons were understandable. The racial slur Fafnir had uttered only to Marik's ears after forcing the boy to stand and face him still burned in the youth's heart, but he forced himself to continue his tale. "Then he sneered in the same way someone does when he is close to obtaining an unrighteous goal and told me to get out of his sight . . . and that he would be seeing me again soon enough anyway." And the people, of course, were certain that Fafnir was always right in whatever he did. They may not have heard his words to Marik, but they had all seen him try to run the boy over. And all of them seemed to just completely ignore it.

"This is pointless," Rishid growled in interruption. "I see nothing that indicates that his slaves were the ones who came after you." He had gleaned of Marik's impulsive behavior and was inclined to believe that the boy was making judgements rashly without actually stopping to consider how they sounded.

"Listen to me, Rishid!" Marik pleaded in reply, his voice coming out louder than he would have liked. The strain of it all was baring down on him greatly and he didn't know how much longer he could take it. Perhaps he was fooling himself. The old Rishid, the true Rishid, would have listened patiently to Marik, knowing that the boy wouldn't say anything with a reason, and a good one at that. But this new Rishid was so foreign to him. Only rarely did he ever show signs of being at all like the one Marik proudly called his brother.

But then Marik swallowed hard, concentrating on the fact that Rishid was here, no matter his current personality, and that there was still a chance Marik could help him remember the full truth of what once was. He clung to this thought as he pushed Rishid's hurtful words back in his mind, only to immediately deal with more.

Rishid narrowed his eyes. "I have been listening," he retorted, "and so far I have heard nothing other than an anger built upon curses and foul oaths against you."

Marik gripped at the bedspread, struggling for control of his emotions, and then blinked in surprise when Ishizu laid her soft hand over his. She squeezed gently, telling him to go on. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Marik resolved to do so.

"Fafnir did let me go," he said aloud as he appeared to ignore what Rishid had said, "and my quest continued. The first adversary I encountered was a ninja dressed in the darkest of clothing. On his mask he bore the same emblem I had seen around Fafnir's neck when he had yanked me to my feet."

Marik crossed his arms over his bare chest, only now remembering that he had never gotten his shirt on. But at this point he could care less. He was just with his siblings anyway. And he really didn't care if they saw him without a shirt. It wasn't the first time.

"I drew the Rod and demanded to know if he was working for Fafnir, which, I was certain, was the case. He merely laughed, neither agreeing to or denying anything." Marik had forgotten for the moment that Rishid and Ishizu wouldn't know what the Rod was, and that was, he feared later, a near-fatal error. Of course Rishid would have asked about it at some point anyway, though, so Marik had only speeded up the inevitable.

"That is another thing," Rishid said, interrupting once more. "What does this rod actually do?" He raised the Millennium Rod up from where he had been keeping it in the nightstand drawer, turning it over and over. Somehow, he remembered it. It had significance. But he didn't know why. And he couldn't imagine why Marik had been carrying it around. It was certainly the strangest sort of weapon he had ever laid eyes on.

Marik lowered his gaze, feeling a lump rising in his throat. He had prayed Rishid would not ask about the Rod. What he feared more than his brother not remembering anything was him recalling only some of the past-the worst parts. Rishid would then either want him executed or be terrified of him, the youth was certain, and he let his bangs conceal his eyes while he tried to hold back the tears of self-hatred that were starting to be made manifest. "It's my weapon," he choked out at last.

Rishid wasn't satisfied with this and continued to look it over, soon finding the dagger and unsheathing it. The blade gleamed in the light and Rishid felt an urgency to cover it over again, which he did. Why did he feel as though this blade had nearly pierced his heart, though perhaps not by this boy's hands?

Ishizu kept a comforting hand on Marik's shoulder. Though she didn't know exactly why this rod had the boy so distraught, she knew that it must be for a good reason. "Leave it be for now," she said calmly to Rishid. "The Rod is not of importance right now. We must concentrate on Fafnir."

Rishid was only too happy to set it aside. There was such a sense of insecurity he got from just looking at it. Anger suddenly rose within him that Marik would be carrying such a thing. "Why!" he snarled, moving forward to glare at the teenager. As before, he seemed ignorant of the fact that Marik's heart was about to break. "Why is it your weapon? Why do you have such a foul thing in your possession!" For he knew it was foul. There was no doubt in his mind.

Marik couldn't stand it. Shaking all over, he met Rishid's gaze and suddenly didn't care if the tears were visible. "I didn't want it!" he screamed. "I didn't want the blasted thing! I don't want it now!" Immediately he rose from the bed, grabbing up the Rod and pitching it violently across the room, where it landed with a harsh thunk against the wall. Overcome by his feelings, Marik slowly sunk to his knees, cursing the day the Rod had entered their family and became destined to be his. He hated the Rod. He hated it with every fiber of his being. And yet he had to remain its holder. Though he had given it to Yugi at the close of Battle City so long ago, Shadi had returned it to him later, and the Tauk to Ishizu. They were the ones destined to hold those items once again, despite the fact that Yugi had held them for a season.

Rishid gazed at the tormented youth, so many different feelings swirling within him. A flash of memory had occurred to him at that moment-one of him standing atop a strange platform, protesting the usage of something called an Egyptian God Card. And below him, communicating mentally and insisting that he do as he was told, was Marik. The images were so brief Rishid was almost inclined to think that none of them were true . . . but something else told him they were. If it had happened, though . . . if Marik had been forcing him to do something against his will, why would he feel such a need to protect the boy now and to trust him! It didn't make sense to him. Nothing made sense to him. Was Marik faking it all? No! He couldn't be! He seemed so sincere . . . and he had come all this way just for Rishid and Ishizu. . . . The boy was half-dead because of it. Was that agony what one who was only trying to deceive would allow to happen? Rishid pushed back the doubts. He felt that if Marik was lying to him now, that he would never be able to trust another soul.

Ishizu knelt next to Marik, whispering comfort to his tormented mind. When she looked up at Rishid, a bit angry at his outburst, she was taken aback by the look in his eyes. The man looked so completely confused and saddened. He didn't look as though he had been trying to make Marik feel terrible . . . he looked as though he was feeling terrible himself. Something had just happened in his mind.

"Get the boy into bed," Rishid growled suddenly, turning away as he strode toward the balcony. He needed time to think. Now his emotions were racing rampantly. There were so many things he could believe if he chose. But he had just been warming to the idea of Marik being his brother when this had entered his mind. Everytime he was about to decide who he was, something else came up to make him rethink it all!

Ishizu didn't question his order. Marik shouldn't be up. So she gently placed one hand around the youth's waist and the other under his arm, lifting him carefully while Marik tried to steady himself. She could feel the boy shaking in her grasp. He was upset. So very highly upset and distraught.

"Rishid," Marik whispered, allowing Ishizu to help him stand. He knew Rishid had remembered something horrible. He had seen it in his brother's eyes. His worst fears were being realized and brought to pass. Rishid would despise him. If that happened, he wouldn't even try to remember the entire truth and he likely never would. Then Marik's brother would be lost to him forever.

But no . . . he had to have the faith that Rishid would be stronger than that. Marik had to believe that Rishid's heart would never let his mind think such things. It was so hard . . . so very hard. . . . And as Marik gritted his teeth, trying desperately to hold back the oncoming flow of tears, he wondered if this entire experience was supposed to be a test of strength for them all. A test of their devotion. Would it withstand anything? Could they as a family withstand anything? How could they be a family when they were so divided?

"Rishid, wait!" Marik cried, finding his voice again and running forward to his brother. "RISHID!" Desperately he grabbed the man's robe and Rishid was forced to stop and turn. His eyes were frightfully cold once more, as they had been when Marik had found himself on the throne room floor. Marik couldn't even stand to look into them. He had prayed so fervently that Rishid would never look at him like that again. Things had just been starting to get better between them, and now this?

"Unhand me," Rishid said frigidly. "Treacherous boy!" In his golden eyes could be seen the memories churned up anew from Battle City. Rishid had remembered more of the argument over the Egyptian God Card, whatever that was. Marik's cruel words burned in his ears. He couldn't forget them now. He could never forget. Why had he fallen prey to the trap that he could trust him?

"No," Marik choked out. "Rishid, no. . . . The past is over and done with!" he cried, his grip on the fabric only tightening. If he could go back and rewrite Battle City, oh! he would in an instant! But he could not. Battle City had come to pass, with all of its treacheries and abominations. Marik couldn't pretend it hadn't happened. But . . . how could Rishid believe that what had existed then was still true now? Why couldn't he see that Marik was sincere!

Marik had remembered how much Rishid meant to him during that horrible duel on Seto Kaiba's blimp. When the man had been struck by lightning, something had happened within Marik's soul. He had known then what he was doing. He had realized how he had been treating the ones he loved. And all during the ensuing struggle with his Yami, who had been trying to emerge, Marik had begged, he had pleaded, and he had prayed that the lightning would be taken back and strike him down instead of poor, undeserving Rishid. But it had not, and Rishid had remained there, laying so still. . . . Marik had been afraid at first that his brother had died. It was so agonizing, those moments before he was able to see Rishid stir. . . .

Tears slipped down his cheeks anew. How Rishid must have emotionally ached throughout that whole time of Battle City! And now he himself was suffering the same pain as Rishid treated him like a stranger. Perhaps, he thought bitterly, it is justice being done. But no-Kasumi had told him that wasn't how it worked. Even so, that didn't stop Marik from fearing it was every now and then.

Rishid stared at the boy coldly. He recalled none of this. He recalled none of what was going over and over in Marik's mind now. All he recalled was being treated thoughtlessly. Screamed at. Ordered to do what was commanded of him. And . . . and. . . .

Lightning flashing outside caught his attention and the man turned his eyes to it, transfixed as it struck someplace in the distance. The lightning . . . so painful. . . . He remembered lightning. . . . He remembered being struck. . . . The searing pain. . . . No . . . he couldn't bear the memories! And this boy was responsible for it! He was responsible for it all!

Suddenly Rishid was fearful, enraged, and sad all at once. He thrust the boy from him, causing Marik to fall back onto the large bed. "Get away from me!" he roared, his earrings jangling faintly as he moved. "Just stay back!" His mind was tortured. He realized later that he wasn't thinking straight. But now he was afraid of this boy and his Rod. Time seemed to pass away as Marik had gripped the cloth, and in his eyes Rishid had seen the cold, cruel Battle City Marik instead. And all he wanted was to distance himself as far as possible.

For what seemed an eternity, no one dared to move. Rishid remained near the balcony doors, fury and anger sweeping over him. Marik lay on the bed, his eyes wild and stunned. Ishizu stood to the side, watching the entire transaction and looking back and forth between her two brothers. Her heart raced as she tried to decide what to do. She had not been allowed to see what had happened in the past that had made Rishid so angry suddenly, but her eyes narrowed when she saw Marik just laying there, watching him, tears silently coursing down his face. His heart was breaking. Whatever had happened before, Ishizu felt that he had repented for it with every fiber of his being. He didn't deserve the treatment he was receiving now! But then, neither did Rishid deserve to have all of these memories piled upon him when he was so confused. Ishizu's heart broke for them both.

"You should listen to what he has to say!" the woman said then, stepping forward and beseeching of Rishid. "You owe that to him, at least! He has only been good to you now!" Her voice was soft and not condemning. She didn't wish to condemn either Rishid or Marik. "He does love you, Rishid."

"I owe him nothing!" Rishid retorted, changing his mind about where he was going. He wanted to get away from them both as fast as he could. And so he walked brusquely to the door leading into the wide hallways, yanking it open. He couldn't stay here. He had to go elsewhere to puzzle this all out. Perhaps then he would be able to calm down and see things from all angles.

But then he remembered his feelings from only moments before. He had thought he had found a family to treasure, people who cared about him. And Marik's tortured words echoed around him: "The past is over and done with!"

Over and done with. It was a nice thought. He wanted to believe that Marik truly wasn't the way he had seen in his memories. He wanted to know that Marik would never hurt him. The boy certainly didn't seem to be any other way. And again Rishid thought of Marik in the throne room, so terribly injured and ill. Blood had fairly poured from some of his wounds. That was not the body of one who cared nothing for his brother. The heartwrenching words and tears were not those of one who was selfish and cold. All of this kept Rishid from leaving the room, as he has intended to do. He had realized that something within him made him not want to leave at all. His heart.

And Marik made one last, desperate plea to get him to stay. Carefully he rose up, leaning forward on shaking arms, and made no move to go after him. He knew that would only make Rishid angrier at this point. The philosophy "If you love something, let it go," echoed through his mind. He would say his piece and then let Rishid leave if he chose. And maybe . . . he would come back. If part of him still remembered the full truth.

Marik gazed at the man sadly and began to slowly speak from his heart. "I love my brother," he said quietly, his voice cracking. "I always have, though I sometimes may have forgotten how much." He swallowed, moving his tongue over his lips before continuing. "I don't deny that treachery happened, Rishid. I don't deny that I was a terrible person. But . . . you don't remember everything. I never meant for you to be hurt. I . . . I never thought it would happen. When . . . when it did, I . . ." Marik shook his head. This was so painful to talk about. "I wanted to die myself!" he finally just screamed out. Sobs racked his body. "I just wanted to die!"

Marik closed his eyes tightly, struggling to get himself under control. At last he opened them again, and they were shining and bright with the knowledge of the rest of the story. "But . . . I didn't die. And neither did you, Rishid. You forgave me. You knew I hadn't wanted anything to happen to you. Your and Ishizu's love brought me back to the light. We've been close . . . always so close throughout all the painful years. . . . And . . . I would rather die a thousand deaths than see you be hurt anymore." Rishid was looking at him intently. Marik couldn't tell whether the man believed him or not. But if he didn't . . . Marik knew sadly that there wasn't anything he could do about it. He was putting his entire heart and soul into this, and if Rishid couldn't see that, then he didn't know what to do to regain the brother he treasured. "I love you, Rishid!" he wailed then, sounding and feeling more than a lost six-year-old than a teenager. "I love you . . . so much. . . ." Then his voice gave out on him and he could say no more. Breathlessly he waited for a response, looking at Rishid with eyes of pleading. Rishid couldn't turn him away . . . he wouldn't turn him away!

Nigh unto five minutes passed in which no one said a word. And again no one moved from their positions. At last, completely disheartened, Marik lowered his gaze, studying the quilt he was sitting upon. Rishid didn't believe him. It had been too much to hope for.

Before he even realized what was happening, strong arms were wrapping around his frail form. He felt himself being pulled close to a rich, wine-colored material. And then tears were splashing into his hair. Rishid! It was Rishid! Marik didn't have to look up to know it was he. Again hope poured into his bosom. His brother wasn't going to desert him, not even after remembering part of Battle City and nothing else! Rishid was going to stay!

Rishid rocked back and forth slowly, refusing to let go of Marik. "I am so sorry," he whispered. "I am treacherous myself. So treacherous. . . . I have no right to behave this way. There is no reason you should continue to care for me." He didn't understand why he was having such drastic mood swings. He didn't understand any of this. But he was hating himself for what he had been doing. People could change, and it seemed obvious that Marik had. It wasn't fair to hurt him for the past. Rishid could see from the boy's eyes that it was truly just the past.

Instantly Marik looked up, an earnest light now in his lavender eyes. "But there is a reason, Rishid! Of course there is!" His voice lowered. "You're my brother. Nothing can change that. Not Battle City, not Juno, and not this blasted amnesia. You're not yourself right now, Rishid." Marik didn't know how, but the right words came to him and they flowed from his lips. "You once told me that . . . that my Battle City self was not the true me. You knew that because you could see that I was trapped inside myself. And the same is true of you right now, my brother. I forgive you of all this."

And Rishid held him closer, vowing that never again would he doubt the youth. His heart was full. Marik's love was undying, no matter what happened. All Rishid could manage to get out was, "My brother. My precious, dear brother. I love you." And it was true.


	6. Siblings Unite! Pendant Uncovered!

The next four days passed without incident. Marik was on the mend. Still he was weak, but his wounds didn't ache so graphically anymore and he was able to stand without feeling faint. He and Rishid had many long talks as the man tried to become reacquainted with his brother. It was a slow process, and quite heart-wrenching for Marik. Never did he imagine that he would need to remind Rishid of things he had once known and treasured. Ishizu tried to comfort Marik when she could, but she knew that she herself didn't remember the past either. But she did recall feelings. Without a doubt she knew Marik was her younger brother and that Rishid was their elder sibling. And slowly but surely, Marik could see that Rishid had embraced the truth as well. This meant more to him than anything, in light of how things had gone the first night and day since he had found the man.

During one conversation with all three Ishtars, Rishid expressed an interest in hearing more about Fafnir and his minions. "You keep mentioning a pendant," he said, looking at Marik intently as the youth reclined back on the soft pillows of Rishid's enormous bed. Rishid had insisted that Marik continue to sleep on the bed until he was fully healed, while the king and Ishizu had each taken cots in different parts of the rich quarters. Marik had protested at first, but then had warmed up to the idea after snuggling under the down quilt. The sooner he was completely better, the sooner they could all find the way to leave this blasted kingdom and go home!

Marik nodded now at Rishid's comment. "Geates' talisman," he said darkly.

"That only exists in legend," Rishid retorted, surprised at this. But then, he was actually not surprised that he was surprised. Marik amazed him every day.

The boy shrugged. "That's what Fafnir wants," he said flatly. "I heard his soldiers talking about it after I was thrown over the ravine. They thought I was unconscious or dead and spoke freely about their plans."

"Do you remember what else was said?" Ishizu asked, her voice gentle.

"They said it was too easy to make the people believe whatever Fafnir wanted," Marik grunted. "They trust him because he got the kingdom in order after the last catastrophe. But no one realizes that all of that was part of his plan from the start. He wanted them to trust him so they wouldn't suspect him of foul play later." He was now sitting cross-legged on the bed, relieved to be able to move freely again and not have pain. "We're caught in the middle of this. I realize that for a surety now. Fafnir's been manipulating us like pawns. He wanted to turn us against each other."

Rishid looked down in shame. "Then I have played right into his hands." But worse than that . . . I have been hurting this boy. The man's eyes narrowed. He couldn't believe how badly he had treated Marik at first. And yet Marik stayed loyal.

Marik was quick to disagree with his brother's words. "No, Rishid!" he cried earnestly. "You took me in. I doubt that Fafnir expected you to."

Ishizu smiled slightly, watching Marik try to comfort his elder brother. At last Rishid smiled a bit and seemed to accept that what Marik said was true. In Ishizu's heart she was remembering countless times when it was the opposite. Rishid had often whispered kind words to the boy, holding him close and reassuring him that all was well. It was so good to see these two reunited as they should be. Ishizu knew that Marik most likely had memories of those past times in his mind and heart as well.

Rishid was deep in thought himself, but now about a different subject. He had explored every corridor of this palace multiple times, including the treasury. There were many priceless gems kept safe in there, to be sold to help the people of the kingdom if the need ever arose in a crisis. Rishid knew there was at least one pendant locked in the vault. It seemed ridiculous, but what if it was the one being sought? After everything else, it almost seemed plausible. If they could just journey to the treasury and retrieve it!

"Marik," he spoke up abruptly, "are you well enough to walk across the palace?"

Marik blinked at him. This seemed an odd request, especially in light of what they'd just been discussing. But he trusted his brother's mind. "I should be able to," he said slowly, easing himself up and taking a few tentative steps forward. The tiles felt cool and smooth under his bare feet, and though he stumbled several times, he managed to stay standing as he walked across the spacious room. Then he returned to the bed and smiled triumphantly at his siblings. "Yes, I can do it," he declared. It still hurt the leg that had been stabbed to be standing on it, but Marik felt that if he didn't concentrate on the pain he would be able to walk mostly normally.

Rishid nodded, satisfied. "Come, then," he said, going to the door. "There is something I wish to show you."

Ishizu looked at him curiously, but stood as well. She had seen the look in Rishid's eyes. He was trying to figure something out and hoped that he had found a solution.

Marik, who didn't want to bother with finding his shoes, followed them to the door barefoot. He was limping slightly as he tried to avoid putting pressure on his injured leg, but he struggled not to make it noticeable. "Let's go," he said.

Rishid looked him up and down. Marik wondered if the man was going to decide that he shouldn't be walking after all, but what Rishid said instead made him extremely surprised. "What appeals to you about that shirt?" the ruler wanted to know, gazing at the soft lavender material that stopped several inches before Marik's waist did. Marik had brought a few different changes of clothing, including several shirts, but this hooded one seemed to be his favorite. Rishid was mystified as to why.

But Marik just shrugged. The shirt was soft and warm and comfortable. He didn't really care that part of his waist showed, though sometimes he did wear another shirt underneath that came down the rest of the way, when he felt like it.

Rishid grunted, but chose not to press the matter.

The siblings moved across the palace floor almost silently, their footwear (for those who had it) making little sound. Every now and then Marik would stumble, but he was able to catch himself before completely plunging down to the hard surface. These tiles, he noticed, did not reflect the events of other things going on in the kingdom. They were perfectly ordinary pieces of marble, there for the sole purpose of being flooring.

But even though the tiles did not show what was happening, Marik thought about it all. The Red Zealot was probably striking again as they spoke and walked. Fafnir's plot, whatever it entailed, would keep Rishid busy and overwhelmed. And then if he could get the people to become incensed about their ruler because the Red Zealot wasn't being stopped, an all-out revolution could occur and Rishid's life would be in much more danger.

Marik was abruptly brought back to the present as Rishid stopped in front of two large, heavy, guarded doors. The strong marble was carefully embossed with golden crests and spirals, and lions leapt out from the corners. The flashily dressed guards looked at Rishid and then unclasped their spears, allowing him to pass. But they stared at both Marik and Ishizu, seeming reluctant to let them also get by. One of the two, resembling a football player with arms as wide around as small tree trunks, kept his eyes on Ishizu no matter who told him to stop. Marik, getting angry, tried to step in front of his sister, his lavender eyes flashing. He knew what the man was thinking. What was more, he had sensed something dark eminating from them both. He didn't trust either of them.

Gently Ishizu laid her hands on his shoulders, steering him into the room. "Come, Marik," she whispered. She, also, didn't trust the guards and she could see that Marik would be hurt, perhaps seriously, if he fought them. Dear boy. . . . He didn't know his own strength.

The doors slammed shut as soon as Ishizu had gone through and into the room. In the marble halls the sound echoed like the closing of a tomb. Marik observed this as he slowly advanced down the aisles, which were covered in a wealth of gold coins and various gems. "It's a mausoleum with bedrooms and bathrooms," he said sarcastically in reference to the entire palace, feeling locked in.

Rishid grunted, going to a case near the back of the room. Slowly he opened the glass door, removing a glittering pendant with a red gem in the center. "This has been in the palace treasury for ages," he said. "It could be the one Fafnir wants." He remembered being fascinated by the necklace in times past when he had come in here. He didn't know why it was held in such high regard as to be placed in a case by itself. All the other necklaces were in another case all together. Perhaps the pendant was important, just as the fabled Geates' talisman was supposed to be. But the thought of such an item being right here in the palace seemed too absurd.

Marik reached up to touch it. He had no idea what Geates' talisman looked like. But surely Fafnir knew of the stone here in this treasury. With the power he wielded, it seemed that he would have tried to retrieve the talisman if it was the one he wanted.

Unless this was the way he had of doing it. Maybe he had wanted Rishid to take it from the room. Maybe he was going to try getting it from Rishid later! Marik still didn't know why Fafnir had abducted his siblings or how doing so would help with his plans. Perhaps he was using Rishid as his puppet. It wouldn't surprise Marik any. But if Fafnir thought he could outwit the Ishtars, he would have another thing coming.

"We must use caution," Ishizu said softly, having simliar thoughts to Marik's. "No one can know that we have taken this from the treasury." She took the jewel from her elder brother, studying it thoughtfully. She couldn't sense any extreme powers coming from it, but that didn't mean there were none. After all, Ishizu wasn't adept enough to be able to sense any and every thing that might be of importance, especially not when she had amnesia.

To everyone's stunned shock and horror, the gem glowed brightly as Ishizu held it, shooting off a series of sparks at her and her brothers. Marik ducked just as a bolt flew directly at his face. But instead of the lightning going elsewhere, it followed the boy and struck him on the head.

"Marik!" Ishizu cried in horror, throwing the treacherous gem aside. She hastened to Marik's side, but it was Rishid who got to him first.

"Are you hurt badly?" Rishid asked, pulling him close. He felt across the back of Marik's head, parting the soft hair to examine the tan flesh. So much for one boy to endure! Rishid growled as rage built within his heart. Even a (hopefully) small irritation like this was something Marik didn't deserve. Especially after what he had just come through, physically and emotionally.

"I'm fine, Rishid," Marik smiled, though he was feeling pain shooting through his brain and temples. He was angry as well, not to mention baffled. How could the pendant have done that! The blast shouldn't have followed him!

"You're pained," Rishid retorted. He could feel Marik shudder in his arms. He must have touched the sore spot. But the skin wasn't broken. There was no blood. And so Rishid let the hair fall back in place and allowed Marik to straighten up.

Marik smiled to himself. Rishid's overprotective side was shining through. And he was only too glad of it.

Ishizu looked at them and then at the pendant, which had stopped sparking and, in fact, had changed color completely. Now it was a peaceful blue instead of the furious red it had been only moments before. Ishizu wanted nothing more than to walk away and never see it again, but with these powers it possessed, she knew it would be foolhardy to do so. Reluctantly she lifted it again, clutching the gold chain tightly in her delicate, tan-skinned hand. There was something dark and evil in the stone. That much she had sensed even before it had started attacking them. And she knew of the Geates Talisman legend. When they were safely back in Rishid's quarters, she would tell what she knew to her brothers. She had refrained before because she thought it best. But now that they actually had this pendant in their grasp, it was time for them to know all that she could tell.

She looked down at the stone again and right before her eyes images began to appear within it. It was a vision from the Tauk, manifested in the gem. She saw a figure coming toward the treasury—a cold figure with snapping eyes and a stern, purposeful gait. Was it Colchis? She couldn't tell. But she could tell that the person was coming here. She felt it in her heart. And even as she saw this, she could hear footsteps coming from outside the room. The man's intentions were evil. He knew they were in here. He was coming for the stone.

"We must leave!" she cried then, her blue eyes widening slightly in panic. They could not go out the main way. The footsteps were coming closer. Any moment the man would come through and find them, and Ishizu knew the end result would be ill for them.

"What's wrong, sister?" Marik gasped. He hadn't seen her this panicked in all the time they had been together in this strange land. But he knew Ishizu better than anyone else, other than perhaps Rishid. And now Rishid didn't know her that well, sadly. Marik had the feeling that Ishizu had had a vision. It must have been abominable too, for her not to be able to keep up her calm front.

Instead of answering her younger brother, Ishizu turned to Rishid desperately. "Is there another way out of this room?" she demanded to know.

Rishid looked at her sternly, thoughts swirling through his mind. Was there another exit? He had explored this chamber often before, when he had been trying to get acquainted with every part of this foul palace. But was there another door! He racked his mind. Surely there must be! It seemed that every room of the palace had some secret way in and out, even the king's quarters. And then the answer Rishid was seeking for came to him. He remembered a secret exit from this room, but it may or may not be passable. Rishid had never tried to use it before—he had only seen it and knew it existed.

"There is another way," he said at last. "Come with me."

Ishizu and Marik wasted no time in following the man. Time was of the utmost importance. They could all sense it. Ishizu knew with a sick heart that even if they got out, whoever was about to enter would discover the pendant missing. There had been no time to find a replacement for the case. The strange man would also know who had taken it, she was certain. He would come after them all. Ishizu had the dark feeling that those in the palace who may have seemed friendly and willing to submit to Rishid's rule were not as loyal as they appeared.

Rishid led them over many mountains of gold coins. The gems scattered throughout glistened in the lights. Crystal diamonds, purple amethysts, and green emeralds were tossed about as the siblings ran frantically through their mists. At last the man reached a back wall upon which two swords were crossed over each other, their points deep amid the glittering coinage. "There is a door behind the blades," Rishid announced grimly, pulling the first sword up. Marik removed the other. He could see nothing, but he trusted his brother's words. If Rishid said there was a door, then there was a door.

The two brothers threw themselves against the wall, struggling to break open the invisible exit. Ishizu quickly placed the pendant around her neck and hid it inside her dress. Then she moved forward to assist.

"It's not moving!" Marik cried in frustration. He shoved harder, not caring that his injured arm was being jarred. Ishizu knew what she was talking about. He could hear the main doors being opened. Whoever she had seen in her vision was coming in.

Rishid growled, not answering. He pushed harder. He knew this way out existed. The last time he had been in here, he had seen someone go out using the exit in the back wall. If only he could get it open now! They needed it much more than that other person had.

A whispered prayer was on Ishizu's lips as she and Marik struggled with the wall as well. The doors were wide open now. The man was entering!

"Are you still in here, Lord Odion?" an unfamiliar voice called. "Come now, I know you couldn't have flown." A droll laugh echoed down the chamber. "You may as well come out and stop playing hide and go seek. After all, I'll wind up with that bauble in the end anyway." With the lights having been dimmed, the stranger couldn't see all the way to the back wall. But if any of the Ishtars made even the slightest wrong move, he would hear.

Rishid ignored the voice by all outward appearances, though inwardly he was quite angry. He wasn't certain at all who the person was. It definitely wasn't Colchis, though the speech pattern resembled his. But whoever it was, Rishid didn't want him to find them in there. He shoved all the harder on the wall, and, with Marik's and Ishizu's help, it finally moved. It made a terrible creak of protest, but it did open slightly, allowing them to pass through. But they all knew the strange man had heard.

"Ah, trying to escape, are you?" his voice came back to them. "Well, I daresay you won't get far! I'm more powerful than you, Lord Odion, though you may think you hold all power in Juno right now!" Coins scattered across the marble floor as the man ran over them, heading straight for the open panel in the wall—and the Ishtars.

Again Rishid ignored the speaker, though he wished with all his heart to turn and confront him. And he realized that if he didn't have his siblings to think about, he just might have done that. But as it was, they were the most important right now. He exited first and then held the panel open with all his might, waiting for the others to come.

Ishizu ushered Marik through and then came last, frowning as her cape became caught on the rough edge of the door. She tugged, pulling it free with a harsh rip. Just as Rishid let go and the panel started to close again, Ishizu felt a hand brush against her back. Then she ran forward and Marik took hold of her hand, the panel slamming shut behind them. For ages afterward Ishizu felt the touch of the man's hand on her back in her mind and it was cruel and cold.

* * *

When the three arrived back at the king's quarters, Ishizu took out the pendant from her dress once more. It had felt steadily heavier since she had put it on, and now she found that it had again changed color—this time to a jealous green. Grimly she set it down on the desk, watching it begin to again crackle with electricity. Something must be done immediately, that much was clear. Whoever had been with them in the treasury would come, she knew. The person knew Rishid was responsible for the pendant's disappearance and would arrive at his quarters as soon as he saw fit. Which, perhaps, wouldn't be for a good while, if what he desired most was to make them all nervous. But they couldn't take any chances. Within the next few hours—or even minutes—any one of them could wind up dead. Ishizu must now tell the little she could.

"There are several versions of the Geates Talisman legend," she said quietly. Every spare moment the woman had been able to find, she had spent poring over volumes and maps concerning this strange land. She had learned much that she hoped would help them now. "I do not know which is the most accurate, but there are several things the same in every version. Basically it tells of a man who became incensed after losing his true love to another man and so he created the talisman and made it a weapon of cruelty, whereas originally he meant to use it for good. Terror enveloped the land of Juno for many days and nights. Then one rose up who protected the kingdom from the growing darkness and destroyed Geates. From the corpse the victor took the talisman and hid it away in a place which no mortal knows. But nowhere in any version does it say that the talisman behaved in this way, turning colors as a chameleon and shooting sparks at any that dare to touch it."

Marik glared at the stone on the desk. "How will we ever find out if this is the right one? In any case, it's obviously dangerous." He reached up to rub the spot where he had been struck. The injury pained him, especially since it was right where he had been clubbed on the head several days prior. But he would never admit it. The rubbing was the closest thing to an admission of pain anyone would get from him.

Ishizu smiled. "While the description of the talisman varies, one identifying mark remains the same. If one knows the code, they may unlock a secret panel with Geates' symbol. The true talisman will have a rune that looks like this." Taking a piece of paper, she concentrated on getting the mark drawn just right. Marik and Rishid gathered around her, watching intently. At last she finished and leaned back, displaying her work. It resembled a "G" in the cursive script, only more elaborate and kingly. Marik knew that if he saw it in the pendant, he would recognize it.

"How do we discover this code?" Rishid wanted to know. Somehow he had the feeling that it wouldn't be easy.

Ishizu sighed. "I am not certain. The code was created by Geates when he first made the talisman. He had wanted to make something so unique that no one could ever copy it. And, indeed, to this day no one has. And that is just as well." She stood and walked to the bed, sinking into its softness and mulling over the puzzles in her mind. Nothing was truly solved. And their time was running out.

"How do you even know of any of this?" Rishid persisted, coming over to Ishizu curiously. He was not accusatory, but genuinely wanting to know how she had learned of the Geates legend. "You haven't been here long."

"I have studied long," Ishizu replied, rising again. "But come! None of us can remain here longer." Swiftly she took the pendant, which had started to turn neon pink, and again placed it around her neck. Their enemies were quickly approaching. It would not do for them to stay another moment.

"What do you mean?" Rishid demanded. "There is the one from the treasury, but he is no contest. He would be easily overpowered."

"Yes," Ishizu agreed, "if there was only he to be of concern. Unfortunately . . ." She paused and looked up into the older man's eyes, pleading for him to trust her words. The only proof she had of their truth were feelings, perhaps, but Ishizu had long ago realized that her feelings were often actual inspiration from above. And she felt that no one in the palace could be trusted longer. Not Colchis, not the man from the treasury, and not even the guards. "There is not only he." She spoke grimly and with urgency, praying for Rishid to give ear and listen. "Please, believe me when I say that now we can only trust God and each other! Those who may have accepted you once, Rishid, will turn against you now. It has been festering for quite some time."

Rishid looked at her intently, but didn't reply. He sensed her words could very well hold truth; indeed, he himself had been suspicious of an extreme revolution for some time. But it was still so unpleasant to think about. He hated being used as an unwitting pawn in a plot of great evil. How dare they do this to him! And worse! How dare they drag his siblings into it! Rage burned within his heart.

Marik came over as well, his lavender eyes dark and full of foreboding. He knew Ishizu spoke the truth. And he remembered anew how he hadn't trusted the treasury guards at all. They weren't trustworthy. He had the sinking feeling now that they would have killed all three of them had they not needed to keep up appearances. And something told him that they needed to no longer.

At that same instant footsteps could be heard resounding loudly outside in the halls. Many footsteps, all rising and falling with a purpose. Marik knew the purpose was to kill them and take the stone. It was an army! Perhaps the entire army in the kingdom was about to bear down on them! And they were only three in number!

"They're coming!" he cried, clenching his fist. If they were to die, they would all die together, at least, and with honor. Marik would fight to the bitter end to protect his siblings.

But their bitter end was not now. Not yet.

Rishid turned suddenly, remembering the secret way out of the room. It was possible that it was guarded and blocked as well, but it might be their only hope. Whatever happened to him, Marik and Ishizu first and foremost needed to be protected. And he would protect them. He would protect them from every bit of madness and cruelty that raged out in the hall—and from anything they might encounter later.

"Come with me," he growled quietly, heading to the panel. "We will leave by this way. From there, I do not know where our path will take us." He shoved, easily opening this secret door. A faint smile played on his lips as he remembered when Ishizu had come through that very passageway several days before. He had been so startled he hadn't known what to think. And then he had been angry. But his anger had soon all melted away. Something had drawn him to Ishizu, as something had drawn him to Marik before. He hadn't been able to stay angry at either of them for long.

"I know what lies beyond this door," Ishizu said quietly as they slipped inside. She recalled only too well of her frantic flight to escape Colchis. Now she wondered if he was part of the army that was now storming against the main door. "But we must be cautious to not fall into the dungeon." She could only pray that if they did, another way out would be made known to them. They needed to rescue the people of this kingdom from the tyrant Fafnir and whatever sort of plan he was brewing!

"Oh that sounds pleasant," Marik remarked as he followed after his siblings. This time he had put his shoes on. Since they didn't know where they could be ending up, Marik did know he would probably welcome shoes.

Before they could make their escape, a sneering voice met their ears. "Lord Odion!" The sound came to them from right outside the entrance. "You're such a fool, do you know that?" It laughed tauntingly. "All this time you thought you commanded the kingdom, but in actuality you've been such a nice little pawn in our game. Fafnir and the Red Zealot are so pleased. But they'll be even more pleased when we've killed you and those sorry fools you dare to keep company with."

Rishid clenched his fist. "Then Fafnir is working with the Red Zealot!" he burst out, unable to keep silent. The news was actually not that unexpected, but it angered him greatly to learn of its truth. It seemed Ishizu had been right. And so were many of his suspicions.

"That's right, but don't think you and anyone in the kingdom who doesn't agree with our ways can do anything about it!" Without waiting for another response from Rishid, the voice ordered the army to break the door in. It shouldn't be hard for all of them to accomplish that task.

And accomplish it they easily did. But when they entered they were disappointed—no one was there. The room was completely empty. Rishid and his siblings had escaped, almost as if it had been instantaneous. Their nemesis narrowed her eyes, her face twisting into an ugly grimace. They couldn't have gone far. And she would find them. She would find them all and then they would die!

Marik led the way down the deserted stone path, using the Rod to give them light. His lavender eyes gleamed in the shadows as he tried to look for another turn. Their journey in the last five minutes had been following a course that led directly away from the panel they had come through. The sounds of the rampaging entourage entering Rishid's room came to them very clearly, despite the fact that the wall between them was very thick.

"It will not be long before they discover the means of our flight," Ishizu said grimly, clutching Marik's hand tightly to keep them from being separated in case the tunnel did eventually branch off. She would have taken hold of Rishid's hand as well, if she had thought he would let her.

To her surprise, he took hold of hers. "We must hasten our escape then," he responded. He walked ahead determinedly, attempting to piece together everything he remembered about the palace's tunnels from his own personal studies. The one they were in, Ishizu had informed him, led down into the dungeon. But he had studied blueprints of the palace and this tunnel was not shown on any of them. It was possible that there were many such secretive routes that remained undocumented so as to be as unknown as they could be. He could only hope that they could find another exit. If they were trapped in the dungeon, it would be all of their end for certain.

Behind them he could hear the strange woman's commands for the soldiers to tear the room apart until they found out how the trio had eluded her. And in that moment he knew exactly why the armies had never apprehended the Red Zealot when they'd been supposed to—they were all in on this uprising against him—Rishid, the king! They were on the side of the Red Zealot and yet pretending to be loyal to their ruler. The spies had never found anything strange because they were in on it as well! Every single person in the entire kingdom could be involved. Rishid had no logical reason to trust Ishizu and Marik in this sort of position he had been thrown into. But he doubted neither of them any longer. They were his dear siblings. And he would stop at nothing to protect them now and henceforth. Furiously he dove around a corner, pulling the other two with him.

Ishizu caught her breath as she felt the stone thumping against her chest. It was starting to go fiery red again. She could feel the heat stinging at her flesh. Before long it would be too hot to possibly wear. What would she do then! She couldn't leave it behind! Perhaps she could hold it in her hand by the chain . . . but what if that grew hot as well? It was as if the pendant had a mind of its own and knew when it didn't want to be worn or handled. Such objects were very, very dangerous—and Ishizu knew not how to deal with them. This jewel obviously wanted to be set down immediately, but that was something she couldn't do.

Marik could sense his sister's concern and fear. Her hand in his had started to go clammy and cold, the fingers gripping desperately so as not to lose hold of her younger brother. In addition to her worry about the pendant, Marik knew she had heard what he had just heard as well—the army had found the panel and was breaking it down. In the next moment, they would all be surrounded by the cruel soldiers. And they would die.

Rishid's resolve only hardened. "Come," he ordered, pulling them both with him once more. "I have just found my siblings and I will not lose them again." 


	7. Identities Revealed!

At that moment a pale hand emerged from the shadows, gripping Rishid's shoulder. The man froze, his eyes glaring angrily into the darkness surrounding them all. Was this a soldier? The man from the treasury? Colchis? Fafnir, even?

Ishizu and Marik froze as well, staring at the skinny arm protruding from an opening in the wall. Surely this was an enemy. They had no allies here . . . did they? Wasn't everyone a possible enemy, save for themselves?

"L-Lord Odion?"

Rishid recognized the quavering voice instantly. It was the courier! What was he doing here? How did he even know about these tunnels? Surely he wasn't the type to go exploring through the palace. He seemed much too mild and meek for such things. Slowly Rishid opened his mouth and spoke, still glaring ahead into the shadows and never turning. "Why have you come?" he asked dryly. "Has the Red Zealot struck again?"

The courier gulped, stepping into the light from Marik's Rod. "Um, no, sir," he said, wringing his hands. "I mean, he probably is causing trouble, but I don't know about it right now and I . . . I didn't come to report it." He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling just as nervous around Rishid as he ever had.

"Then why are you here?" Ishizu asked kindly. She could easily see how jittery he was. It was understandable, she thought with an amused smile. Rishid was so very gruff. But his bark was worse than his bite. The messenger boy had nothing to fear.

The boy went completely red at Ishizu's attention. "To . . . to help all of you," he somehow managed to say. "I know a secret way out. But you . . . you have to come right now or there won't be time! The soldiers are almost here." He cringed at the sound of the wall finally tearing free. The Ishtar siblings had a few seconds at best.

"Can he be trusted?" Marik cried suspiciously.

"If he can, he's about the only one in the kingdom," Rishid retorted. "But now we don't have time to debate." With that he pulled Ishizu and Marik into the opening and the messenger boy struggled to close it immediately. Had Rishid made the right decision? What if he had led his siblings out of the frying pan and into the fire? The courier seemed weak, but now anything seemed possible, including the thought that it was all just an act and that he was now leading them to perhaps an even larger army in wait deep in the passageways.

But from several yards away came the sounds of the raging army. Rishid knew that he had made the only decision he could. He could only pray that it wasn't the wrong one.

As they all remained crammed into what seemed a frightfully small space, the courier continued to wrestle with the panel. His hands shook as he couldn't manage to move it an inch. In frustration Rishid finally reached out and shut it with one swipe of his hand. The courier turned an extreme red, which Rishid ignored.

"Take us away from here," he growled. "Far away."

"Y-yes, Lord Odion," the messenger boy gulped. "I can get all of you out of the palace and maybe even out of the village!" He honestly did want to help them, but how could he say anything else anyway with this strong, fierce man towering over him? It would be foolhardy.

"Take us to the forest," Rishid ordered.

The teenager blanched. "What! No, Lord Odion!" Terror filled his eyes as he wrung his hands frantically. The forests of Juno were notorious for their dangers. Strange creatures, plants, and even spellcasters were said to walk down those paths. Surely some treacherous fate would befall all of them if they went! "I can't take you there! NO!"

Marik immediately clapped his hand over the other boy's mouth. "Be quiet!" he hissed. "Do you want the army to hear you!" He didn't know why the forests were taboo, but he had a good idea. Even so, after all he and his siblings had come through, Marik didn't fear the forest in the least. Not that he would've anyway. Marik didn't fear the common, ordinary things that many people found terrifying. The things Marik feared were much deeper and darker.

"We will go through the forest," Rishid rumbled.

The courier still looked unconvinced. "But . . . all of you will die!" he cried out. "Surely, Lord Odion, you know of what roams through those forests!"

Rishid looked at him sternly. "I know of your foolish legends about the woods. But I do not give heed to absurd tales that are told simply to frighten children! On the contrary, the forests are the safest places for us now. Perhaps within their confines we can learn answers that the palace would not grant us." He turned with a sudden motion, the hems of the royal robe he was wearing sweeping out magnificently. "Now I see that I have two duties as ruler of this land. I must find the Red Zealot—and also Fafnir."

To all of their surprise, the boy didn't balk at Rishid speaking of Fafnir derogatorily. "Yes, Lord Odion!" he said with a firm nod. "But that's why you can't go into the forests!" Suddenly aware of how boldly he was speaking, his eyes widened and he adopted a "deer caught in the headlights" expression. What would Rishid do to him for speaking this way? Why, he could be killed on the spot for standing up to the king like this! No one was supposed to contradict him, especially not in such tones!

But Rishid's frown only deepened. "What is why?" he demanded. "Speak!" His impatience was deepening as well. All they were doing was standing around. If the army passed by and heard their voices, they wouldn't rest until they had the panel opened. And then they would all die.

"M-my sister," the messenger boy stuttered. "She's secretly started a rebellion against Fafnir and the Red Zealot." Nervously he started tapping his index fingers together. "When she . . . she heard about you, Lord Odion, she said she knew you'd help us fight them. And she wanted me to somehow bring you to her. But I didn't know how. . . ." He looked at Rishid ashamedly. "I'm rather . . . uneasy around you, sir. You have such a commanding presence. . . ."

"Enough about my presence," Rishid grunted. His eyes narrowed further. Could the boy be trusted? This thought had run through his mind so often in the past five minutes. This could be further evidence that he was leading them into a trap. Or it could prove just the opposite. If they could find some allies, it would be most welcome. They needed the assistance of the local peoples, those who knew so much more about this land than three hapless "visitors" ever could!

Marik didn't look extremely happy either. But he found himself reluctant to actually speak ill of the courier. He couldn't forget how the soldiers had spoken so cruelly about him when they had taken him captive and had been dragging him into the palace. Perhaps the courier was just like him, in a way—thrown into a hopeless situation through no fault of his own and only wanting to help his loved ones. And really, where else could they turn at this point? They had to trust the boy.

Ishizu grasped Marik's hand gently but firmly. Then she squeezed lightly. She didn't know any better than her brothers whether the messenger boy spoke truth, but she agreed that they had nothing else to do but trust him for now.

Suddenly remembering something forgotten in all the commotion, she looked down at the pendant. Strangely, it seemed to have settled down now. It was glowing a deep, peaceful ocean blue. With a frown she caressed it with her other hand. Why did it change so abruptly? That was something she needed to have answered. If they couldn't determine how it worked, they could all be at a serious disadvantage when it came time to fight their enemies. And she knew that time would come, perhaps very soon.

"Well, sir?" the courier spoke up hesitantly. "W-will you come? You . . . and these two?" He gestured at Marik and Ishizu, not knowing how to address them. "My sister Adelpha really wants to see you. . . ."

Rishid growled. "Take us to her," he said coldly. "But if it is found that you are deceiving us, I can assure you that your punishment will be severe." He actually didn't think he would punish only a child, even if they were all being deceived, but the words, he hoped, would either frighten the boy out of any deceptions or else make it clear right now that he was not the scared rabbit he appeared to be.

The courier's eyes only brightened, however. "Let's go then, Lord Odion!" he exclaimed, hurrying up ahead into the darkness. "We shouldn't waste any more time. Adelpha says that the Red Zealot is probably going to attack again right away!" Without explaining that strange remark he dashed on, lighting the way with a torch he had decided to use. The flames danced in the otherwise dark tunnel, casting their brightness about for those it guided.

Rishid again brought his siblings close to him. "Yes," he agreed darkly, "let's go."

As they started their journey into the unknown, the man spoke again. "Courier, the two with me are my brother and sister," he declared. "You will address them as such."

"Of course, Lord Odion!" the boy chirped from ahead, excitement in his innocent eyes. Adelpha would be so happy that he had finally brought the king! Now he was at last doing something useful for her!

"And don't call me that," Rishid rumbled. "I am Rishid to you."

Marik smiled to himself. Little by little, he was getting his brother back.

* * *

Fortunately for our friends, their flight from the palace happened without incident. The passageway was long and seemingly endless at first, and over time Marik grew quite restless, but he had to hope that their guide knew what he was doing. Indeed, the courier seemed to. He walked ahead purposely, brushing aside cobwebs and dust, until they came to a panel that was slightly ajar. "This is where I got in," he informed them.

Rishid looked with disapproval. "You are lucky that no one else saw this and tried to follow you in," he grunted. Marik crossed his arms in silence, obviously thinking the same. It had been a foolish thing to do, no matter what the reason.

The messenger boy blushed, pushing against the panel until it was opened wide. Moonlight filtered through the opening, bathing him and the Ishtars in a dim glow. "I just wanted to make sure we could get out again," he said in a small voice.

"We might not have gotten out at all," Marik retorted. Images of the guards finding their way in and attacking danced through his mind. This was all too dangerous to take such chances!

"But we are getting out, for which we must be grateful," Ishizu spoke up quietly. She realized that the inexperienced courier was only trying to help them—and the kingdom—the best way he could. Gently the woman squeezed Marik's shoulder, telling him to just let the matter drop for now. Marik gave a sigh, but he agreed. Ishizu smiled.

Rishid brushed past the messenger boy and stood in the doorway. "Come," he said firmly to his siblings. "Night has fallen. It will be easier to hide within the shadows of darkness."

Marik and Ishizu concurred. Quickly they both exited the passage and then their guide followed, shutting the panel behind him. He fumbled a bit with the torch before finally managing to throw it into a nearby pond, extinguishing the flame. They couldn't possibly travel using it now. It would be too risky. They would have to rely on the moon and stars for their light.

As they stepped away into a cluster of assorted trees on the grounds, Rishid turned back to gaze at the palace one last time. It had been his only home for over a month. He had ate there, slept there, and ruled over the kingdom from there. And now he was leaving it behind. The man frowned thoughtfully. After whatever needed to be done to rid his subjects of the Red Zealot and Fafnir, he planned to find them a new king and then depart from the land of Juno forever. He would leave a crown that he had never wanted, hopefully on the brow of someone more capable of ruling this tragic land. And as for Rishid . . . well, he would go on to better things. Or rather, go back to better things.

"Rishid?"

Startled out of his reverie, the man turned to see Marik coming over to him. The teenager looked concerned, as if he wondered if Rishid was having regrets about the events of this day. Could his elder brother perhaps be wanting to stay at the palace? Marik didn't know Rishid's innermost thoughts, though once they had shared a mental bond so strong that sometimes they even inadvertently sent things to each other. But with Rishid's amnesia, the bond hadn't seemed to have worked.

"What is it, my brother?" Marik asked now, his voice soft but also with a hint of worry and possibly panic. "Do you wish that . . . that you were staying?"

Rishid looked into Marik's eyes, seeing the emotions running rampant within them. Then he walked away completely from the immense structure behind them both, never to look back again. "No," he said firmly, laying a strong hand on the boy's shoulder. "I could never wish that. Not anymore. I never desired the riches of the kingdom. And now I know why. You and Ishizu are my treasures."

Marik knew Rishid spoke the truth. He could see it in his eyes and feel it in the comforting touch. The boy relaxed, a burden lifted from him as their journey continued.

* * *

As the little group approached the back gate of the palace grounds, to their surprise they found it unguarded. Where there should have been at least two men patrolling to make certain no unwanted people slithered in, there were none. The sharp poles they used were laying lone on the ground, as if abandoned abruptly.

Rishid narrowed his eyes and stepped forward, reaching for one of the weapons. "This could be both bad and good," he uttered, picking the object up to use in defense if needs be. "Without the guards we can pass through freely. But why are there no guards? It's possible a greater danger lies in wait outside the walls." Now he was even more suspicious of things than before, but with good reason. He had his siblings to protect. And it didn't take a genius to see that something must have gone amiss. Unless the guards were absolute, careless fools—which Rishid knew they were not—they would never have simply dropped their poles and ran away.

Marik snatched up the other stick and examined the point, finding it quite sharp. Perhaps it would come in handy later. And then of course he carried the Millennium Rod in his belt. He was destined to possess it, even though he loathed the item extremely. He did, however, feel more at peace with it in his possession than anyone else's. After all these years, he knew how it worked. He could will it to do his bidding in an instant, though of course now it was only used for good. Now Marik entertained the possibility of having to mind-control any on the other side of this wall that might stand in their way. Even though he knew it would be for a righteous purpose, he hated the thought of it. And he said a silent prayer that things would not come to that. He didn't want to ever have to use that power again. The only things he'd done with the Rod lately was use it to either intimidate or blast enemies away from them (sometimes both). But he'd never used the full power of the Rod since repenting. He was afraid to. He was afraid of what would happen to him and to others if he did.

Ishizu came up between her brothers then, again feeling the stone react to something. It glowed a deep pink and then orange, as if trying to imitate a sunset. But when she saw it didn't seem to be about to bring harm upon anyone, she concentrated on encouraging Marik. She could feel his unease, though she didn't know entirely the reason for it beyond anxiety over what might lay in wait for them. She could guess, however, by the way he kept subconsciously touching the golden rod he owned. Ishizu didn't know the entire history behind the rod, but she did know from the scene that had happened because of the rod those few days before that it held many painful memories for both her brothers—and for her as well, if she had remembered. It, like her Tauk, seemed to hold some sort of magical power. She could completely understand Marik's reluctance to have anything to do with it.

The messenger boy, meanwhile, seemed to be the only one completely at ease in spite of the situation. "Adelpha!" he exclaimed, running forward to the wall and startling all three Ishtars back into the present. What on earth did he mean? Rishid wondered. Was this possibly the boy's sister's doing?

Almost as an afterthought, Ishizu quickly replaced the pendant within her dress. If she could help it, she didn't want anyone to see the burden she bore. The messenger boy hadn't noticed so far and she was content to keep it that way.

Slowly a figure emerged from the shadows in response to the courier's cry. At first it was impossible to tell the gender. The tunic and pants were very loose-fitting and the hair was cropped close to the person's head. As the figure stepped into the light, a slow smirk came over the attractive features. "It looks like we both kept our parts of the bargain, Paul," the figure remarked in a throaty voice. "I took care of the guards and you've brought Lord Odion."

The messenger boy—who the Ishtars quickly realized was Paul—smiled brightly. "That's right, Adelpha! And he's brought his brother and sister with him."

Adelpha replaced the sword she was carrying in the sheath and stood in front of the Ishtars, arms akimbo. "Well, if they're both on our side, they're welcome," she said, speaking to Marik and Ishizu without actually addressing them. She looked to be about Ishizu's age, though there seemed something about her eyes that made her appear much older. Obviously she had seen much in this war-torn land.

"If you are against Fafnir and the Red Zealot, as we have been told, then we're on your side," Marik responded, eyeing her suspiciously. She seemed out of place in Juno and yet at the same time completely fitting in. It was odd, he realized. Most everything in Juno was that way.

Adelpha smirked. "Yeah, that's right. I've got an entire group of rebels who also are against them." Her green eyes glimmered in the night shadows. "But this isn't the greatest place for a briefing. That army will sooner or later discover you guys aren't anywhere in the palace and some of them may come to storm around the grounds. Let's go somewhere else." She turned slightly, wanting them to follow her. Here was what she had been waiting for ever since Rishid was elected king! And now it seemed that part of Adelpha's job was already done, as Rishid seemed to know that both Fafnir and the Red Zealot were his enemies—judging by what his brother had said. She wouldn't have to convince him of that. Rishid was not one of the fools who believed that Fafnir was helping Juno to prosper.

She still remembered the feelings she had experienced during the coronation ceremony that she had witnessed from deep within the crowds. She had known Rishid would be an ideal ally. Once he found out the sort of person Fafnir truly was, she had known he would want to fight against him. And as soon as he'd become king the Red Zealot had been his greatest adversary, as was he Adelpha's. She was determined to stop him—and Fafnir—no matter what the cost. Juno had been lovely before either of them had come along.

Adelpha still remembered vaguely how it all had once been. And she still remembered her mother's dying wish that she and Paul defeat Fafnir. I won't let you down, Mother, she vowed silently as she now looked out over her entire group of rebels and friends. They would win.

"Where is it you wish to go?" Rishid demanded, taking a few steps forward with Marik and Ishizu in tow.

"My place," Adelpha smiled secretively. She seemed to have a certain mischievous air about her at all times, even though inside she didn't feel in the least mischievous. "Come on." She took off running, her boyish, sandy hair being tousled in the wind. As she fled over the grass she put her fingers to her lips and made an odd whistle that sounded like one of the nocturnal birds that roamed through Juno.

Almost instantly figures began rising from everywhere imaginable in response to the signal—and sometimes dropping as well. Marik barely got out of the way before one of them somersaulted down out of a tree. The others emerged from within bushes, behind rocks, and around corners. They were a motley crew, but all seemed honest and good. None of them attempted to purposely harm the Ishtars and instead just wanted the trio to follow them.

Paul went and stood near the end of the line consisting of Adelpha's "gang," smiling hopefully at the Ishtars and especially at Rishid. "You're coming, aren't you, Lord Odion?" he asked, forgetting that Rishid didn't want to be called that.

Rishid growled, looking about as fearsome as he can get. But he stepped forward with Marik and Ishizu, never uttering a word. Yes, he would go. With circumstances being what they were, they could hardly afford to not. And if they were genuine, these people might be just what he had hoped to find.

They trooped along in silence for some time with their companions, allowing themselves to be led to their destination. But still a certain question crept into their hearts and remained. It seemed something that very much needed an answer. Marik exchanged glances with Ishizu, his eyes puzzled. She met his gaze, looking confused herself.

At last Rishid spoke for all of them. "What did you do with the guards?" he asked coldly, his voice cutting through the night air like a knife. In such troubled times he didn't doubt that it was possible, but he did have to admit that he would rather that the sentries would not have to perish in order for them to make their escape.

One of the nearby men gave a dark laugh. "They'll have headaches when they wake up tomorrow," he remarked, flexing his hand and making a fist as if to indicate that he was the one who had delivered the apparent knock-out punches.

"Adelpha wouldn't have killed them," Paul hastened to assure the uneasy Ishtars. "That isn't her way, nor the way of her rebels." Now that he was back with familiar people whom he had obviously spent time with many times before, he seemed much more relaxed and not as ridiculous as he had appeared back at the palace. "Of course we all realize that . . . that Fafnir and the Red Zealot will most likely have to die. . . ." He smiled sadly. "There's probably no other way to stop their kind."

A low growl came up from deep in the shadows. "It was foolhardy to leave the guards alive!" a hateful voice informed them. As the moon came from behind a cloud the owner of the voice was revealed. He was a stern, strong man with raven hair and a rugged beard—the sort of person who looked as if he belonged in a forest with an axe in hand, felling trees. "They'll be no good to us that way!"

Adelpha turned, frowning. "We only kill if necessary," she said, "and in self-defense or the defense of others. We would have had no reason to kill the guards. If you want to remain a part of this rebel alliance, Denva, you will abide by the rules I have set."

Denva snarled but said nothing more. Marik watched him suspiciously, his lavender lilac eyes filled with distrust. He wondered just how far this man would go to prove his points. If Denva caused some sort of trouble or uprising, it could mean disaster for them all. When he glanced at Rishid, he saw that his brother felt the same way, if not more so.

Ishizu reached for Marik's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. She was concerned about this new character as well, but she wouldn't show it. "What we are about to do over the next few hours is very dangerous. But if we hold strong we will make it out." She smiled kindly. She believed this with all her heart, and they would discover how true her words were, though they would be fulfilled in a very unexpected and somber way.

Their trek lasted for the next several hours as they journeyed deep into one of the most humble villages of Juno. Marik blinked, gazing at the peasant homes. They looked like something out of a medieval tale—with thatched roofs and cheap building materials—despite the fact that the palace was equipped with every modern convenience. These homes didn't appear as though they even had electricity. Marik wondered if Fafnir was behind this inequality.

Adelpha smirked. "You'd think Fafnir wouldn't realize that a bunch of the 'poor, lowly class' were banding against him. Unfortunately, he's not so dense as to not realize he has enemies." She twirled her sword. "But he hasn't found us yet. Come on." With that she led them all around a corner and to a cellar door mostly concealed by moss. Using her sword to wedge down, she managed to lift the door up, revealing the ladder below.

Rishid, still saying nothing, entered first of his siblings. All became quite dark in front of his eyes and the man glared ahead, wondering again if this was a trap. But on the other hand he knew this mysteriousness was necessary if Adelpha's group was legitimate.

Then a light clicked on. This home did have electricity, at least in the cellar. The soft glow bathed over a nearly bare room and its occupants, casting odd shapes in the shadows. Marik and Ishizu came up behind their elder brother, both looking curious and on guard. Ishizu remembered seeing a water wheel outside the home. That, she assumed correctly, was what was responsible for the electricity here.

Adelpha came forward, gently pushing the flat part of her sword against Rishid's chest to move him aside. "The Red Zealot is about to strike again," she informed them, for the first time her voice growing dark and forbidding.

"And how do you know that?" Rishid retorted, studying her in the gentle illumination. Was she psychic, as Ishizu was? Or did she have ways of obtaining inside information?

"Two of the rebels died to give this information," Adelpha told him soberly. "They caught the fiend on his last massacre, but he left them fatally wounded and escaped. Denva found them as they breathed their last." She snapped back to the original subject then, as if she had never mentioned this. "The Red Zealot's next target is right here." She paused, sadness flickering in her eyes. The two who had died had been brave warriors and close friends, both of each other and Adelpha. But she couldn't grieve now. She had to make certain they hadn't died in vain. "He wants us to feel helpless when we see our friends dying in front of us and not be able to do anything about it. But we won't let that happen. When he comes to attack, we'll be there to greet him." She raised her sword in determination.

Instantly her rebels took up a cry of agreement and affirmation. Marik watched as they glared into the distance, one by one each raising their fists and screaming death and defeat to the Red Zealot. And at that moment the boy froze, getting the cold sensation that he knew this wicked murderer. But that was preposterous. He had never met the creature. The only ones he knew in this Heaven-forsaken land were Ishizu and Rishid, his treasured siblings. There was only one person Marik knew of who could be responsible. But no! He couldn't be here. He was destroyed; he was gone!

Marik didn't realize that he was starting to tremble with anxiety and rage, but Rishid noticed instantly. Narrowing his eyes, the fierce man laid a strong hand on Marik's shoulder. "What is it?" he wanted to know. He had had enough experience with Marik by now that he knew the boy was not shaking in fear of the proposed attack. Marik was not a coward.

Marik started, realizing Rishid had noticed his feelings. "A feeling," he said darkly. "A bad, treacherous feeling. I'm afraid we may be about to meet an old enemy." His thoughts raced. If the need arose, how would he explain about the entity he had accidentally created years before? The evil being he had often tried to overthrow? No matter what he did, it seemed that he could never permanently be rid of the creature that now operated within his own body and no longer needed Marik's. Forever it would haunt him, hound him, until Marik was afraid he would be driven entirely mad.

Rishid's grip tightened. "What old enemy?" he pressed. For Marik to be this upset he knew it couldn't just be a run-of-the-mill villain. Perhaps. . . . Rishid blinked, a new thought coming to him. Perhaps those memories he had had in the past were connected with that being. He didn't know where that thought had come from. A week ago he wouldn't have entertained the possibility at all. But now he was sensing something as well. He felt a dark presence, one that seemed very nearby.

Marik swallowed hard, about to attempt an explanation, when he was interrupted by Paul. He had to admit, he found it a welcome interruption. Until he heard why Paul had come.

"We have to go now!" the boy cried, running into the room from where he had been standing guard in the house. "The Red Zealot is here! I saw the schoolhouse catch fire!" Panic shone in his wide eyes. He hadn't ever actually encountered that madman before. And now he was about to. He knew it was possible that he might die—or worse, that Adelpha might. Always he had feared for his sister during this battles. And with the Red Zealot as their opponent, there was no telling what might happen.

Adelpha immediately headed for the door at this news. The time had come. "Alright," she said loudly, "there's no time for any more explanations. I would've preferred to talk with Lord Odion more before this battle, but I can see that won't be happening." She turned to him. "But let me just say one thing: try to stay alive. Fafnir won't be here. He leaves these things up to the Red Zealot. We need you to help bring Fafnir down as well, when we corner him." The woman clutched her sword tightly. Rishid and his siblings were their last hope. She couldn't allow them to die now!

Rishid narrowed his eyes at her. He had no intention of dying. After the evil here was defeated, he still had to get his siblings home. And he had to remember them completely. That was his ultimate goal. He had to again remember all the years they had spent together. He had to remember exactly what had happened to them and what they had come through. But there was one thing he did remember, one thing that was probably the most important of anything he could ever recall. He remembered his love for them.

Gently Marik reached out, laying a hand on Rishid's shoulder. He could sense his brother's sorrow, but also his determination. And the boy smiled in spite of all their problems. "Let's go," he said quietly. Rishid inspired him. They would survive this. Marik would make sure of it.

Rishid looked at him, nodding once in agreement. They couldn't dawdle here, pondering on their thoughts. Not when the Red Zealot was only a few yards away.

As Ishizu headed for the door as well, Adelpha stopped her, pointing the sword just below the Egyptian's neck. "I know what you're carrying with you," she announced softly, getting hold of the chain with the weapon's tip and bringing it out.

Ishizu allowed this, watching the pendant emerge in all its blue glory. Instead of turning red at being disturbed, it remained perfectly still. This, Ishizu decided, was extremely significant. It must like Adelpha. "Is it Geates' Talisman?" she asked calmly, also deciding to trust Adelpha's knowledge.

Adelpha drew her sword back. "If we had the time, I'd tell you," she said, "but we have none." From aboveground came the terrified screams of the villagers, followed by the felling of buildings and maniacal laughter. Adelpha was right—there was no time. But as she ran forward, Ishizu was certain she heard her whisper, "I wish there was time."

Marik ran for the ladder, his heart thumping wildly. He had to reach the top. He had to find out if his fears were founded. And in any case, he had to stop this rampaging madman.

First step, second step.

He could hear the frightened screams. There were women and children up there being tormented! He could hear them calling for each other, crying and sobbing. His rage boiled over.

Third step, fourth step.

He heard the demented laughter of the Red Zealot. It filled every part of his soul with darkness and terror until he again felt he would go mad. He knew that voice . . . that insane, evil voice. . . . Marik lost count of all other steps as he ran up and out the cellar door and stood in the center of the devastated village. The fires raged, the children wailed, and the Red Zealot stood, silhouetted in the flames and licking blood off a sword. For one moment he locked eyes with Marik before disappearing into the smoke.

The boy's heart nearly stopped. It was true, then. He had witnessed it. His fears were real.

Yami Marik was the Red Zealot.


	8. Test of Strength

"Marik!"

"MARIK!"

Slowly the screams penetrated through to Marik's stunned spirit. With heart pounding, he finally turned to see Ishizu and Rishid both hurrying over to him. Their eyes were wide with concern and worry, but also confusion. They hadn't seen what Marik had. They didn't know the treacherous truth he had discovered.

"You could be killed just standing there," Rishid frowned, coming up to the boy. "The Red Zealot could attack from any angle at any time!"

Marik shook his head. "No, Rishid," he replied quietly. He didn't know how he would explain this, but now was the time he must say something. "The Red Zealot doesn't want to kill me. At least not yet." And as he spoke he slowly realized a truth. Yami Marik should have been destroyed after Battle City, but he hadn't been because a part of him—a part of his darkness—existed within every person. No longer could he take up residence in Marik's body because Marik had fought him hard and had overcome him. But from the evil energies that existed everywhere in the world, Yami Marik had crafted a separate body for himself. And as long as there was evil in the world, he could never truly be vanquished. Yami Bakura had once called himself the darkness, but Marik felt that was not quite true. Yami Marik, in his mind, was the only true and complete darkness. At least Yami Bakura had good points here and there. But Yami Marik had none.

Rishid looked at Marik suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? And what makes you feel this way?" The boy was such an odd enigma. Still Rishid often had a hard time understanding what was going through his mind. "Why would the Red Zealot wish to leave you alive any more than anyone else here?"

Marik swallowed hard. "He wants me to feel helpless while he causes destruction," he replied darkly. "He likes to torment me. You see, we . . . know each other." He clenched his fists tightly, almost drawing blood.

Ishizu caught her breath. Marik knew the Red Zealot! But how could he? She narrowed her eyes, suddenly thinking of a new possibility. What if . . . what if the Red Zealot was someone else from this other dimension Marik insisted they all had come from? What if he had either followed them here or had sent them here in the first place? If the latter were so, then he most likely knew all the tricks of this strange world, and also, how to escape. If they didn't learn as well, they might never get out.

Rishid narrowed his eyes. "What makes you suddenly believe now that you know the Red Zealot? Is he the 'old enemy' you said we might meet?"

"Yes," Marik responded quietly. "I saw him." Rage burned within him at the memory of their brief encounter. "He is no different now than he was before. Maybe worse. He was born of confusion and anger and hatred; hence, that is all that he is. Truly, he is the darkness."

Rishid, who would have said only a few days before that it was preposterous and wouldn't have believed, or tried to believe, such a cryptic tale, now simply frowned and turned away slightly. They would talk about it later. There was no time now. And he couldn't help but remember his feelings from only a few short moments before—that there truly was something dark and familiar lurking about this land. It must be true. The being Marik spoke of must be here. And he must be the Red Zealot, just as Marik had said.

Even if Rishid had decided to dwell on the matter, he wouldn't have been able to. "Come on!" Adelpha screamed as she ran past, sword in hand. "He's killing again. We have to stop him now!" Her pale green eyes glimmered with the outrage and anger at the situation. People were dying unnecessarily, all because of the Red Zealot's craving for destruction! She wouldn't stand for it.

Marik narrowed his eyes. Slowly his hand strayed to the Rod in his belt. He would have to use it. There was no choice. He couldn't fear it any longer. Perhaps he could wield its magic powers against the evil one who had once borne it. It might work. Who knew? He had to try something, anything.

A scream echoed around him as a body toppled off a nearby roof and crashed, bleeding, at his feet. Marik gazed in alarm as the form gasped, the hands clutching at the wound deep in the heaving chest. His Yami had done this. The horrible being he had created accidentally was at large again, torturing . . . mutilating . . . killing. . . . How could Marik possibly allow it to continue? He felt responsible for it in so many ways. . . . So responsible . . . so guilty and to blame. . . . He had to find some way to stop it!

Slowly Marik's alarm began to turn to rage. A red fire started to burn in his eyes as he raised his gaze to meet his cruel Yami's, the being who was laughing maniacally on the roof's edge. This creature was evil . . . so evil. . . . Marik could see it in everything about the other entity as he stood boldly, his cape blowing out behind him. It seemed almost to leak from his very soul. When he bled, he only bled murder and vileness. No goodness existed within him. Marik wanted to destroy him. He felt the longing start to take hold of his heart and twist it until he felt as if he would go mad if he didn't follow through. If he could just take the dagger concealed in the Rod . . . just take it and attack. . . .

There. He had the Yami in his sights. He seemed almost to be posing, waiting for Marik to do something about the calamities he had been causing. That was what he was doing, but Marik couldn't see it yet. All he could see was the inhuman beast before him . . . the weapon he himself was holding . . . and the way to possibly rid the world of this terror, this madman. He wanted to lunge, to plunge the weapon deep into the tanned flesh as payment for every wicked thing that Yami Marik had done—for trying to murder Rishid and for trying to scare Ishizu out of her mind. For harming so many of the people who were now Marik's friends. And for the massacres he had been reveling in. Marik wanted to kill him for it all. He struggled, starting to raise the hand that held the dagger. If he could aim just right . . . if he could . . .

"Marik, NO!"

Ishizu's and Rishid's voices rang out, piercing every part of Marik's very soul. The jolt went through him so strongly that the Rod fell from his grasp. And then he gasped in horror and alarm, being brought out of the mad reverie he had been entertaining. Once he had tried to enact revenge upon the Pharaoh for a crime he had been certain the former ruler had committed against the Ishtar family. The feelings he'd had had driven him almost utterly mad, pushing away all those whom he loved. He couldn't stoop to such a level again. He couldn't kill, not out of hate. For then . . . he would be no better than his Yami, who hated everything and everyone. Marik had created him with hate. He couldn't let it continue.

Yami Marik sneered down at him, crossing his arms over the chest. His flesh and clothes were smeared with blood, none of it his own. "You want to stab me," he taunted in his deep, throaty voice. "You know you do. I saw it in your eyes a moment ago. We're actually so very similar, you and I. The madness burns within you, though you try to keep a lid over it and simmer it down to pretend it doesn't exist. But I know better." The veins were bulging out on his face as he spoke. The pupilless eyes, lavender lilac as Marik's own and yet so unlike his, shrunk to tiny pinpricks as his cruel lips parted in a grin.

Marik dropped to one knee, breathing heavily. Slowly he reached for the Rod, closing his fingers around it. He could hear the Yami very clearly. But he couldn't give in. He wouldn't. If the Yami was to be destroyed, Marik could not do it with hatred in his heart. If he did, Marik himself might just be destroyed as well—emotionally. He closed his eyes tightly, pleading silently for the strength he needed. He hated to admit that the Yami did know him well. _But,_ he thought then, _he doesn't know me well enough. I've grown mentally since the last time we met. And I will prove it to him!_

He wondered what his siblings thought of the whole matter. But he couldn't bring himself to look up into their eyes. Surely they would have seen the resemblance between him and the Yami. Perhaps Rishid would fall to not trusting him again and Ishizu would decide not to, either. Ages before, at the beginning of all this madness, Marik had been accused of being the Red Zealot. What if Rishid now believed that both he and the Yami were responsible? Marik couldn't stand to think such things about his loyal brother, but he sadly knew that since Rishid had amnesia so terribly, anything was possible.

"What if your siblings weren't here?" Yami Marik's mocking voice came again, cutting into Marik's thoughts like a knife. "You'd give in then. If Ishizu and Rishid hadn't called to you, you would have allowed the madness to grow. You would have shown your true potential and attacked me!" Blood dripped from the weapon he held in his fist, splashing down on the Rod's blade as Marik continued to half-kneel on the grass with it. "You're weak, boy, but I am strong! I have found strength by controlling life and death." He laughed, the sound paining all those who heard it. "I'm a sort of god here, you see."

Marik looked down at the redness, abhorrence growing in his heart. The spilled blood of another person . . . probably an innocent. . . . It was on his blade, staining it, silently crying out testimony of what hatred can do. He clutched the gold metal tighter, the tips of his fingers meeting the palm of his hand. "No," he said quietly.

Yami Marik glared down at him. "What did you say?" he yelled, another vein emerging on the back of his hand as he held the knife fast with a grasp that rivaled Marik's grip on the Rod.

Marik rose, a soft wind blowing through his bangs as he again faced the cruel being. "You're not a god," he said, his voice low and foreboding. "You're a devil. And may the real God have mercy on me for my part in bringing you to life!"

Yami Marik blinked at him. Then he threw back his head, laughing to the skies. His shoulders shook with mirth and he barely seemed to notice as his grip on the knife loosened. But he snapped back to attention before it could fall, giving Marik an infamous maniacal grin as he pointed the weapon in emphasis. "Foolish boy. If your confusion and anger hadn't created me, someone else's would have. Don't you understand? Oh wait . . . you do. I see it in your eyes. You understand that I am the darkness. I am every wicked spirit, every malicious act, and every vile thought personified." He flung his cape out and in that moment he was gone, only another drop of blood falling from the roof to prove he ever had been there at all.

Marik let out the breath he was holding, allowing his hands to drop to his sides. He was no longer aware of who was watching him or what they thought of him. But he felt a certain peace with himself. Perhaps it was because he had resisted the temptation that had thrown itself at him. Or perhaps he wasn't blaming himself for Yami Marik's creation any longer. He didn't know. But he did know he didn't feel peace about his Yami's antics. The madman had to be stopped, somehow.

That was when he felt two gentle hands laid on his shoulders. Ishizu and Rishid were here still. They were offering comfort. After everything Yami Marik had said . . . was it really that they didn't blame Marik, even though they both had amnesia? Marik kept his gaze focused on the ground, unable to bear facing them. Rishid had treated him badly only a few days ago, upon remembering parts of Battle City. How could Rishid not be angry now? Marik narrowed his eyes, willing the angry tears to stay in. "I suppose . . . you're both furious at me," he said quietly. "It's true, what he said. . . . I created him, even though I hadn't meant to."

Rishid's grip tightened. "Marik, look at us," he pleaded. It was hard for him to explain. He could barely comprehend any of the words those two had exchanged. But he felt no anger, no disgust. Not toward Marik. Not this time. Somehow . . . something told him that Marik told the truth. Marik wouldn't have wanted to invent such a monstrosity. Rishid could not believe it was Marik's fault. Logic screamed it couldn't be possible at all for anyone to create such a demon, but Rishid knew there had to be some out of the ordinary explanation. If he could only remember. . . . He wanted to so badly.

"We do not blame you, Marik," Ishizu added softly in her musical voice. Nothing in the world could make her speak harshly to him, not after the bravery she had seen within him as he had willed against the feelings of hatred. "We love you. Please turn around." She didn't understand either, but she didn't have to.

Slowly Marik did turn around. He stared up into his siblings' eyes. They held only love for him. Nothing more, nothing less. There were no accusatory gleams, no glints of disdain or revulsion. Not even from Rishid. Marik could only utter one word. "Why?"

Rishid shook his head. "I don't know," he said truthfully. "I only know the feelings I have." He reached up to touch the scars on the left side of his face. "Marik . . . I believe your words are true. I carved this for you. I wanted to share your pain because . . . because I love you so dearly. You have suffered. Only now do I begin to realize this." He couldn't explain where these words were even coming from. He hadn't known he was about to say them. But as they fell from his lips, he knew he did believe them.

Marik gazed at him in awe. Rishid wasn't angry? In fact, instead of anger Rishid had remembered something about their bond? It seemed too good, too wonderful to be true. But it was. Rishid held out his arms, drawing Marik close in a protective hug. Stunned at first, Marik remained frozen in the embrace, not wanting to move for fear that it would be a dream. But then a light came into his eyes and he threw his arms around Rishid, hugging him tightly. This was reality.

Ishizu, standing to the side, smiled softly at the two brothers. Truly she felt that Rishid would no longer doubt Marik again. These new feelings he was experiencing were too strong. Yes, he would look after the boy and love him, as he had before. And so would she.

A shadow fell across the woman and she looked up, startled to see Paul's stricken countenance. His eyes were wide with worry as he clutched tightly at a wound in his chest. "Where's Adelpha?" he burst out, obviously in pain but too brave to admit it.

His panicked tone also brought Marik and Rishid to attention. Here was another brother, searching desperately for a loved sibling. And this sibling had been harmed by Marik's own Yami. The boy felt a certain anger welling up within him again, but he struggled to push it down. If what Yami Marik said was true, that if Marik hadn't created him, someone else would have, then perhaps Marik didn't have to blame himself so much. But he knew he still did anyway. It was impossible for him to not.

"I do not know," Ishizu said quietly, "but I am certain she is alright." She couldn't believe that one such as Adelpha could be taken down so easily. And yet that madman Marik had been talking to . . . he seemed so evil. . . . So unlike anything Ishizu had ever known. It was almost as if the Devil himself had been standing there. And, Ishizu thought grimly, it would have been possible for such a character to harm even Adelpha. But she prayed it was not so.

"I have to find her!" Paul cried frantically. Blood seeped between his fingers and down the front of his shirt, staining it the color of death. As he took a step forward, he staggered and almost fell. Rishid caught him.

"You're not well enough to be looking!" he scolded sternly. Had his feelings about the young messenger boy changed? Did he no longer see him as merely an inept, nervous child? He was wounded—and gravely so, it appeared—but he wasn't sniveling and cowering in a corner, dizzy at the sight of blood. All he wanted was to make certain his sister was safe. Something in those actions was definitely similar to Marik. They both loved their siblings, no matter what other personality differences they might have. Perhaps . . . perhaps Paul wasn't the way Rishid had thought after all.

"It doesn't matter!" Paul retorted. "I will anyway! Adelpha was always there for me. I can't abandon her now!" And with those words he fainted, slumping over against Rishid. Though his spirit was willing to go to Hades and back for his sister, his body was much too weakened to stand it.

Rishid frowned, holding the boy up as he started to fall. "He's possibly injured fatally," he growled. "He needs medical attention." The man looked up, glancing around at the carnage they were standing in the middle of. Bodies were strewn everywhere, the redness of their blood spreading over the grass, the buildings, and the dirt walkways. It was a horrible, gory sight. "And so must many others." He didn't add aloud what he and his siblings were all thinking—that it wasn't likely too many others were alive.

"And someone should find that woman," Marik added grimly.

* * *

As it turned out, that was unnecessary. At the next footfall the trio looked up. Adelpha was standing there, sword in hand and blood adorning her flesh and clothes. Her hair was wildly flying in all directions and her eyes were cold. She always tried to distance herself during these sorts of things. If she didn't, she knew her emotions would run rampant. But at the sight of her brother laying still on the ground with Rishid leaning over him, she couldn't hold back her cry of alarm.

"Paul!" Adelpha screamed, running forward and falling to her knees. Gently she pushed Rishid aside and bent over the young boy. "He needs help now!" She had been trained as a healer after their mother had died and was the most knowledgeable of the rebel band to tend to the wounded when things like this happened. Now she vowed that Paul would not die as their mother had.

Adelpha looked up at Ishizu urgently. "Down in the tunnel I have a bag with medical equipment. It's on the table in the room we were in. Bring it to me now." As she leaned over her brother, a sparkling pendant emerged from under her shirt. Ishizu gasped, momentarily stunned. But then she turned and hurried to retrieve the bag. She would ask about the jewel later. This wasn't the time.

* * *

The hours dragged on as each rebel and each Ishtar worked to tend to the wounded and dying. Though they had been right there to intercept Yami Marik, he had still caused immense destruction. The entire village had been devastated.

Marik looked up from bandaging a woman's arm as Denva passed by, his dark eyes cold and flashing. The man ignored Marik completely, storming past with a bloodied sword in his hand. Marik glared after him suspiciously. What was he up to? Marik didn't trust him at all. This was the first time he had even seen Denva since the attack. What had he been doing all the time before that? The stained sword made the boy nervous. He wouldn't put anything past that angry man. Perhaps he had been out on a massacre of his own.

Rishid sighed, slowly standing from where he had been kneeling beside a young woman who had just died. She had wanted him to stay with her until the end, saying that he reminded her of her dead brother. And as she had slipped out of mortality, she had behaved as if that brother had come to her. Perhaps he had. Rishid wouldn't have been surprised if such was the case.

Thoughts spilled over in Rishid's mind. He couldn't help remembering the evil being whom Marik had encountered. The Red Zealot. Finally, after what seemed endless amounts of carnage and slaughter, Rishid had found the one who had been terrorizing the land of Juno. He had been the cause of that woman's death, as he had killed so many others. Something told Rishid that he and his siblings had, indeed, fought against the madman for many years prior to this. He was their most deadly enemy.

Now Rishid wanted to find his siblings and make sure they were alright. He glanced about, his eyes interlocking with Marik's. The boy was standing up, going to head over to his brother. He seemed alright, just weary—which was understandable. In addition to everything that had happened, Marik still wasn't fully healed from the injuries he had had upon first collapsing on the throne room floor. Of course Marik wouldn't admit that he wasn't feeling up to par, but Rishid was certain he wasn't.

* * *

Frantic footsteps flew over the long grass as a small form ran wildly about, searching for one dear to him. Someone had to help him find his mother! Where was she? The last he had seen of her was when she had made him go into their cellar to protect him from the Red Zealot. Now the chaos was over, but his mother was nowhere to be found. And no one seemed willing to help him look. The last person he had beseeched was a heavy, bearded man who had only glared and cursed at him. He had gotten away from that giant in a hurry. But who could he turn to now?

His eyes darted about, fixing on each person up ahead. They all looked preoccupied with their own concerns. He concentrated harder. Maybe . . . maybe he could try that dark-skinned boy, he hoped. He looked kind, and younger than most of the others around.

Without a second thought the child was running to Marik and tugging on the edge of his shirt. The teenager turned slowly, finding himself looking at the frightened, adorable boy who couldn't have been older than four. His bottom lip wobbled as he gazed up at Marik with deep blue eyes. "Please, Mister," he begged, "have you seen my mother?"

Marik blinked, his heart melting. He wanted to find Ishizu, but at least he knew she was safe. This poor child didn't know where his parent was. Marik knelt down, laying his hands on the child's shoulders. "I don't know," he said softly, "but if I can help you find her, I will. What's your name?" He struggled to control his emotions. Thanks to his Yami, many children such as this one might now be orphans with nowhere to go. But Marik couldn't allow himself to display anger around such a troubled soul, even if the rage wouldn't be directed at him.

The child sniffled. "Kade," he replied.

Marik ruffled Kade's hair. "Let's go, then," he told him. Rishid surely would have seen this, he decided, and would come over to help. His brother was kind.

Kade grinned widely, flinging himself into Marik's arms. This boy would be gentle with him, unlike the scary man he had asked before. Maybe now he would find his mother!

Marik was right about Rishid having seen things. The man smiled slightly as he observed the scene. Marik was a compassionate soul. If he had ever been the way Rishid had seen in his dark memories of Battle City, he was that way no more. Rishid knew this for a certainty now. He wouldn't deny what he felt. He stepped forward to follow the two as they went on their search.

Kade's eyes widened at the sight of Rishid. Here was another giant to his four-year-old eyes. Was this one going to be mean too? He tensed, gripping Marik's shirt. But then he saw that Marik didn't seem concerned in the least. He was talking quietly to the man, who nodded thoughtfully and gave Kade a comforting look when their eyes met. And so the child settled down, content to have Rishid come with them.

Their search took them all over the village more than once, but Kade's mother seemed nowhere to be found. They checked in every dwelling, every cellar, and every other place where the wounded had been taken, and though they found several who knew the boy, no one had seen his mother or knew what had happened to her. Marik's heart sank, afraid that the woman was dead or dying somewhere.

Kade was afraid of that as well. He turned to look at Marik in horror, tears running down his face. "Why can't we find her!" he wailed. "She should be here!" He sobbed, staring at the ground. "I want my mommy!"

A flash of memory went through Rishid's mind. He remembered his own mother. He had loved her so much. She had been very beautiful, both in looks and in personality. Never had he known of another woman who was so kind and gentle . . . until Ishizu had grown up. She was like their mother in many ways, including looking almost exactly like her.

Rishid frowned. Where had that come from? Was he starting to remember more?

He crossed his arms. What had happened to their mother? Was she somewhere else? Was she still alive? No . . . she had died. . . . She had died giving birth . . . to Marik. Even as the thoughts were coming into Rishid's mind, he knew they were true. He swallowed hard, looking over at his younger brother. Marik was occupied, kneeling to comfort Kade.

Gently Marik brushed Kade's tears away, looking compassionately at the curly-haired child. Kade felt lost, as Marik had when he had first arrived in this land. He didn't know that he could tell Kade that they would find his mother—alive—so he held him silently. Kade threw his arms around the teen as he wept, finding comfort in the caring embrace. Marik could relate to the immense pain. He himself had experienced so much of it. And Kade was so trusting and innocent, as Marik once had been. But he had seen too much of reality to remain innocent now. Marik didn't want the same thing to happen to Kade.

At last Kade spoke again. "Why can't we find her?" he whispered shakily. "Is it 'cause she's gone to Heaven?" He hiccuped, blinking up at Marik with terrified eyes.

Marik felt his heart twist. "I don't know," he replied honestly, hugging the child close. But they would find the child's mother later on—in a most unexpected way.

* * *

Adelpha pulled her knees up to her chest as she sat by the campfire where Paul was still laying. He was too injured to be moved. The best his sister could do was treat his wounds as best as she could and keep him warm until either he got well enough to move . . . or he died. She narrowed her eyes. She wouldn't think about that. But Ishizu was sitting by her. She'd talk to Ishizu in the hopes it would take her mind off worrying over Paul.

"You saw it, didn't you."

Ishizu came to immediate attention. She had been with Adelpha for ages, but the other woman hadn't spoken before now. But Ishizu knew how to be patient. And she knew when it was best to remain quiet. Adelpha would speak when she felt like it, Ishizu had understood. And now without actually mentioning what she was talking about, Ishizu knew instantly that Adelpha meant the pendant. "Yes," the Egyptian said softly.

Adelpha reached into her shirt, removing the gem and showing it to Ishizu. It was identical to the one Ishizu herself had been wearing. "They're like twins, aren't they?" she said with a bit of an amused smirk.

Ishizu touched her own pendant. It was glowing faintly, seeming attracted to the other one, which in turn was also glowing. "What is their secret?" she asked. Her eyebrows narrowed in thought. "Are they both Geates' talisman?"

Adelpha smiled a bit. "Kind of," she admitted. "There's actually three of these all together. When combined, they form the true Geates' Talisman. When Geates was killed, the talisman separated into the three pendants so it would be harder for people to lock into the power. I've been wondering for a long time how to get the one hidden in the palace treasury. Looks like you solved that problem for me." She gave a nod toward the pendant Ishizu was wearing.

Ishizu looked at her. "What is it that you desire with Geates' Talisman?" she asked quietly.

Adelpha sighed, staring off into the distance. "I always thought that if I could utilize the power of the legendary Geates' Talisman, I could defeat Fafnir for good," she said in a melancholy tone. "And I knew I had to find all the pieces before he did." She fingered the talisman around her neck. "I found mine deep in the forests, where most of the villagers are afraid to go. I was never afraid of them." She sighed, a bit of a smile coming over her features. "My mother taught me of their beauty."

Ishizu smiled slightly as well. Adelpha definitely seemed the type who wouldn't fear ridiculous rumors and tall tales. And yet Ishizu knew there were things that the rebel leader feared—most of all, that she would lose Paul. And that Fafnir and the Red Zealot would win. Ishizu feared that as well.

"Anyway," Adelpha spoke again, "I know the enemy already has one piece. Now we have two." She looked up into Ishizu's eyes urgently. "The talisman can't activate without the third piece. That's good in one way, but bad in another. We have to make certain Fafnir and his minions don't get our pieces. At the same time we have to find the third piece and somehow take it."

Both women glanced down at their pendants as the objects struggled to reach each other, sending out various sparks and swirling lights. At last, seeming to sense it was futile, the gems quieted down, both burning a steady deep blue.

"Beautiful, yet deadly." Adelpha smirked in a self-depreciating way. "That's what's often been said of me."

Ishizu chuckled softly but then sobered. "How do you know that our enemies have the third pendant?" she wanted to know.

Instantly Adelpha's eyes narrowed. In the flickering light of the fire, she appeared, indeed, quite deadly. "Paul told me," she said at last. "He said someone in the palace had it, but that it was disguised as a regular royal amulet. On one of his rounds, when he passed by the room of this person, he saw the fake covering removed and the true pendant revealed. The man was showing it off to some visitor, obviously also in on the racket. Paul barely escaped without them seeing him."

Ishizu frowned as an image sprang to her mind. Could it have been Colchis? Now that she thought of it, it did seem that he wore an amulet. But then on the other hand . . . wouldn't he have known of the pendant in the palace treasury? Why wouldn't he have tried to take it, if he indeed was the one with the third piece? Surely he would have known about that part of the legend. Or what if . . . what if Colchis had wanted Ishizu to get it for him? Could that have been another of the reasons he had kept her around? It was impossible to know.

A gasping breath immediately brought them both to attention. "Paul!" Adelpha cried, falling to her knees next to him. She pulled the quilt back slightly, hoping against hope that she would be able to fix whatever was causing him to not be able to breathe. But she wouldn't be able to fix this. 

Paul shuddered, his glassy eyes slowly opening. "Adelpha," he smiled weakly. "I . . . I found you after all. . . . You're safe. . . ." He settled into the grass, relief washing over him. For him, now everything was better. And though he felt the life slipping away from his tortured body, he could die in peace. His sister was safe.

"Yeah," Adelpha managed to smile back, ruffling the boy's hair. "I'm . . . safe. . . ." She swallowed hard. "Don't worry, Paul. I'm not going to let you die!" She gripped the clammy hand tightly, her own shaking. This was just like how it had been before their mother had passed away! And somehow she knew that Paul was going to join her. Though she didn't want to accept it, she felt the truth.

"I . . . I'm not worried. . . ." Paul looked at her with the adoration only a younger sibling can bestow on a beloved elder one. Ishizu's heart caught in her throat. She had seen Marik look at her that way before. . . .

"Are you in a lot of pain?" Adelpha whispered.

Paul shook his head. "No . . . I'm alright," he responded, his grip loosening. "But Mother's here. . . . She says . . . 'hello.'" Slowly he went completely limp. Ishizu knew he was dead.

Adelpha knew it too. The color drained from her face as her body trembled. Then she fell forward, bending over the form, and whispered low in words Ishizu couldn't understand. The warrior brushed her brother's bangs back, smiling vaguely as a lone tear slipped down her cheek. Paul would be at peace now. But Adelpha didn't know that she would be.

Ishizu's heart went out to her. But as the Egyptian woman went forward to offer comfort, a horrible, undeniable feeling came over her and she froze in her steps. She would experience what Adelpha was experiencing—very soon. One of her brothers would die.


	9. New Actions

Marik sighed, holding the small, sleeping child on his lap. Kade had finally dozed off after crying for his mother for what had seemed ages. Marik was at a loss to know what to do. If the woman was dead, and they never found her, what would they do for Kade? What, indeed, could they do? They couldn't very well take a small child with them on such a dangerous venture as they were undergoing. But he seemed to trust Marik so wholly. What if he wouldn't want to leave the teenager if his mother couldn't be found?

Marik bit his lip, pondering over the events of the day as if that would help him determine where he could look for (and find) Kade's mother. She had to be somewhere, after all. The Yami could have easily killed her or . . .

Wait.

Marik frowned, looking around the quiet camp he and Rishid had made. "He took her," he said in a low voice.

"Hmm?" Rishid looked up from where he was deep in thought.

"My Yami. He took Kade's mother." Marik shifted position, trying to get comfortable as he felt his legs going numb under the boy's weight. "He must have. It's the only explanation we've got left."

Rishid threw a stick into the fire. "What would he desire with her?" he growled. Actually, Rishid admitted grimly to himself, he thought he had a pretty good idea of what that madman might want with a woman. He clenched his fists, vowing not to ever let Ishizu fall into the wicked being's clutches. The being, he was sure, would be cruel and merciless.

"He may be trying to draw me to him," Marik replied darkly. "As I said, he won't kill me—not yet—but he wants me to witness every bit of his evil. If he took Kade's mother, he knew all too well what he was doing. Perhaps he was taking a bit of a gamble that I'd find the child, but he was certain that somehow I would. And that I would try to help, thus ensuring that sooner or later I'd realize the truth about Kade's mother's disappearance and seek my Yami out again." Unconsciously his grip on the young boy's form tightened. Marik was very protective of children due to his own horrid experiences that he had suffered as a child. He couldn't bear to see innocent souls going through agony and pain. Such things filled him with hatred, almost to a dangerous extreme at times.

Rishid looked down at Kade, who was clutching at Marik's shirt in his sleep and not wanting to let go. Another image came to his mind then, unbidden. He saw himself, sitting as Marik was sitting now, with a child curled up on his lap. Kade's sandy curls became straight blonde hair and his pearly white skin a soft tan. Rishid knew he was seeing Marik as a child. He smiled, the image calming to him. "Don't fear, Marik," he said aloud. "Whatever is amiss here, we will find and fix it."

Marik gave a low sigh, but then smiled as Kade shifted position and snuggled closer. It was a bit of an unusual experience for the teenager—looking after someone. Usually he himself was the one being looked after. But ever since arriving here and discovering Rishid and then Ishizu, Marik had felt that he was watching over them. As long as they didn't completely remember their lives, Marik had to sometimes guide them along, teaching them of anything strange that came up that ordinarily they'd know about. And now there was Kade to look after. . . . And yet Marik knew that in spite of his siblings' handicaps, they were still taking care of him. Without them nursing him back to health after he had been severely wounded, he knew he would have perished. He started to doze, these thoughts turning over and over in his mind.

Suddenly he snapped back to full awareness, remembering something lost in all the confusion. It was a wild thought, a horrid thought, but still it came. "Rishid," he whispered urgently, "what if even Denva knows what happened?" It was terrible for Marik to suspect one who should be an ally, he knew, but that was just the problem. Denva should be on their side, but Marik honestly didn't know if he was, especially after the display with the bloodied sword. What on earth had Denva been doing with such a thing and why had he done it!

Rishid blinked at him. "What do you mean, Marik?" he asked.

Marik, recalling that he hadn't told Rishid of what he'd seen earlier, explained now about his encounter with the man. He spoke in quiet tones and made certain not to say too much, just in case Kade wasn't entirely asleep and could hear the conversation. There was no need to frighten the child with such ideas, especially when they couldn't be confirmed true.

Rishid frowned. "If we can find Denva, we must question him," he said at last. Marik's thoughts were very disturbing, and unfortunately, possible. Rishid understood this only too well. Denva's actions were a mystery, one that definitely required solving.

Kade opened his eyes sleepily, blinking up at Marik as if seeing him for the first time. "What's your name?" he asked, and Marik recalled that, indeed, he hadn't introduced himself. Somehow in the confusion, it must have slipped his mind to do so.

"I'm Marik," he said gently.

Kade pondered over this. "I'll call you Mr. Marik," he grinned, immediately dropping off to sleep again. He was safe and secure. He knew his new friend wouldn't let harm come to him. And soon they'd find his mother.

Marik sat still, thoughts continuing to tumble over in his mind. "'Mr. Marik,'" he repeated at last in a rueful way. "That makes me feel so old." He leaned back against the tree trunk, attempting in vain to ease the discomfort in his spine. He longed terribly for something soft.

Rishid laughed softly, amused at Marik's words. "Perhaps in a four-year-old's mind, you are," he remarked. "But if so, I must be quite ancient to him."

Marik found himself snickering. "So sixteen is old and twenty-five is ancient." His eyes started to close again and then snapped open as it occurred to him that he and Rishid were talking and laughing the way they always had before. He had actually forgotten for several all too short moments that his brother didn't remember everything. But it had all seemed so normal, so natural, the time they were sharing. Maybe Marik could take heart and hope from all this. Maybe it meant he would soon have his siblings completely back.

"Actually," Rishid said after a brief pause, "I believe he wants to call you 'Mr. Marik' because he respects and admires and looks up to you. Perhaps he even adores you." He himself was so caught up in the moment that he hadn't entirely noticed how freely he was speaking to Marik. Later on he would remember and realize, during one of the darkest points of this experience.

Marik grew silent at this. "I'm not really one who should be admired, Rishid," he at last said quietly. "I'm just a normal human being struggling to survive like everyone else." And after everything that had happened during Battle City he was certain all the more that this was true. If anyone knew of everything he'd done, how could they possibly say that he was to be admired?

Rishid smiled kindly. "But unlike 'everyone else,' brother, you are trying to do good. Not all people are that way. Yes, I believe there is reason to admire you." Gently he put his arm around the weary teen and Marik smiled in a way that was both happy and melancholy as he again began to doze. This was quite likely one of the most peaceful and serene moments these brothers would experience in this land, especially since more hard times were just ahead. Both would keep it in their hearts through the next hours.

* * *

The brothers were startled out of their dozes by the sound of worried footsteps in the grass. Rishid came alert first, followed almost instantly by Marik. Who was roaming about now? A villager? A rebel? Could it possibly be Kade's mother? Or was that too much to hope for?

Their questions were soon answered as Ishizu ran into view. "Brothers!" she cried, an expression of complete and utter relief and joy coming across her face as she saw them both alive and well. They hadn't suffered a tragic fate yet. And . . . was that a young child on Marik's lap? Ishizu blinked and came closer.

Marik brightened happily. "Sister!" he exclaimed, moving over to make room for her. He made certain not to disturb Kade by his actions.

Ishizu smiled, lowering herself down and brushing Marik's bangs aside. "Who do we have here?" she asled, glancing down again at Kade. It seemed to her that the little boy wanted to stay close to Marik. And the teen seemed to be taking good care of him. Marik's arms were around the small body, protecting the child from falling. He was being very gentle and kind, worthy of the obvious admiration bestowed upon him.

Marik sighed sadly. "This is Kade," he explained. "His mother is missing." In detail he and Rishid told how they had met Kade and how they had searched everywhere for his mother to no avail.

Ishizu listened grimly, her eyes narrowed in concern. She could imagine what Kade was going through. She had just come from the heartbroken Adelpha, who was feeling shaken and lost. Ishizu had been torn between offering comfort and looking for her own brothers. But Adelpha had wanted some time alone with Paul. And Ishizu was understandably panicked after her premonition. So she had come to find Marik and Rishid. She doubted Adelpha really knew she had left, though Ishizu had said a goodbye to her.

"Where have you been, sister?" Marik asked, noticing the silence.

"You seemed in a state of worry when you approached," Rishid added. He hadn't interacted as much with Ishizu as he had with Marik, but he had come to accept her as his sister and was rediscovering that he loved her very much. He couldn't imagine a world without her and Marik. The thought of Ishizu being worried over something filled him with a deep concern.

Ishizu smiled sadly, reaching for Marik's and Rishid's hands. "Paul has passed on," she told them quietly, reluctant to say anything about her premonition. She knew she most likely needed to, but she was still praying that it wasn't real and that what it spoke of wouldn't come to pass.

Marik drew his breath in sharply, thinking about how Adelpha must be feeling. He hadn't seen her interact much with Paul, but he had been able to tell that they were loving siblings. His heart went out to Adelpha now. If he lost either Ishizu or Rishid, he didn't know what he'd do. But at least he'd still have one or the other there. Adelpha didn't have anyone now. The one person she loved, the one bit of family she had, her only brother, was dead.

Rishid narrowed his eyes, feeling stunned by this news. He had known Paul the best out of the three of them, but now it dawned on him that he hadn't really known him at all. Perhaps, though to him Paul had been nervous and edgy and without backbone, he had been entirely wrong about the boy. Paul had fought bravely, getting fatally wounded in the process. And though his pain had been enormous, he had desired to find Adelpha instead of resting. Paul wasn't so unlike them . . . not so unlike Marik. They had shared the same age, but more than that—they shared courageous spirits. Now that Paul was dead, Rishid wished that he had treated him better. Unconsciously he drew Marik closer to him.

* * *

The rest of the night passed without further incident. When the first lights of dawn shone upon the lonely village, Rishid found his eyes slowly opening. Marik, with Kade in his arms, was sound asleep on the man's shoulder. Ishizu was dozing on his other side. Rishid smiled, watching these treasures in their slumber. It had been like this before. He remembered holding them both. He always had looked after his siblings.

Marik shifted position, moving closer to Rishid. He mumbled softly, his shirt pulling up and revealing one of the healing wounds he had borne since first arriving. Rishid frowned as he saw it, hoping it would not leave a scar. Marik had more than enough of those. Carefully Rishid reached out and pulled his brother's shirt back down as far as it would go—which, admittedly, wasn't much more.

A shadow fell across him and he looked up. Adelpha was standing in front of them all, her eyes clouded and dark. She had stayed up all night, holding her own private memorial service and burying Paul. Now she had a renewed determination to stop Fafnir and especially the Red Zealot. Her brother was dead because of their wickedness, after she had vowed to herself that he wouldn't die because of this war-torn country. A change had taken place in this tattered heart over the last several hours, one that may or may not be good for her soul. Whatever it took, she vowed that she would bring justice upon her enemies. This land had suffered long enough.

Rishid stared into the haunted orbs, recognizing the flicker of righteous fury that fueled one's soul when their family had been wronged. Something told him that he had seen Marik look that way before, many times. It bothered him, but he wasn't entirely sure why. "I am sorry about your brother," he spoke quietly and sincerely.

Adelpha drew her sword, studying it coldly. "You still have your brother and sister," she remarked. "Do you know what it's like to lose someone precious? Do you?" She didn't want anyone's sympathy or pity, especially not when they couldn't even begin to understand the pain she was feeling.

Rishid frowned, recalling the Battle City memories that had caused him so much confusion and confoundment several days before. Though Marik had changed now, once he had been that angry soul from Rishid's recollections. He had once been lost, not physically, but mentally and emotionally. Rishid knew this. Indeed, Rishid knew the pain Adelpha felt. Only Rishid's sorrow had been that Marik's soul, not his body, was lost.

He looked down at the slumbering teenager again, feeling him shift slightly. Marik let out a soft sigh, as if weary of the many burdens that had been heaped upon him during this journey. The boy had proven himself capable and mature enough to handle it all, but he needed a rest. Most boys his age were obsessed with cars or girls. Marik's only desire was to get his siblings and himself back home . . . and to find Kade's mother. Rishid realized, as he held the sleeping form close, that Marik most likely could never be interested in what most teenage boys were. He had experienced too much and his innocence was gone.

"You're silent." Adelpha's voice cut into his ponderings like an icy knife.

Rishid looked up, fixing her with a firm stare. "Yes," he said quietly. "I was thinking of the answer to your question. And I remember—I do indeed know what's it like to lose someone precious. I lost him to anger and hatred." He didn't remember details, though. It was more like feelings. He remembered Marik's rages and vengeance. He remembered how his heart broke, knowing that underneath it all Marik was scared and even terrified.

Then he had to choke back his feelings of alarm, realizing all the more how heartbroken Marik himself must have been several days before when Rishid had started to reject him because of the Battle City memories he had gained. Though Marik must have hurt him countless times during that period, it was never intentional. And Rishid had the feeling that he had never lashed out about it at Marik before. For him to have suddenly done so must have crushed the boy tremendously. He found himself holding Marik a bit closer.

Adelpha made a sound of anger under her breath. "I lost Paul to hatred as well. He was murdered by a madman. And I'm not going to allow that madman to go free." She reached into her shirt, drawing out the pendant. Rishid blinked as he saw it. It glimmered in the pre-dawn light, seeming attracted to Ishizu—or more likely, Rishid concluded, Ishizu's pendant.

"What do you mean to do?" he asked then. According to Marik, the madman wasn't any sort of mortal creature. It—well, Rishid supposed it was a "he" by default, but its action were so vile and contemptible that it seemed impossible for it to really have a gender—but Rishid was certain that it—he—couldn't be destroyed any ordinary way. What was it the demon had called himself? The manifestation of the world's evil? If such a thing were so, then evil would have to be completely extinguished for him to die. And Rishid sadly knew that that wasn't likely to ever happen. There would always be evil or else there could never also be good. It was a constant battle being fought in this mortal world.

"Anything and everything I can," Adelpha retorted. "Wake your siblings. We're setting out to get the third pendant." She sheathed her sword as she turned on her heels and spun off. She had left no explanation for where they would go. But she knew. They were going to retrieve the third pendant. She would make certain that Geates' Talisman rose again. And Fafnir and his cronie, The Red Zealot, would both be vanquished.

Rishid frowned as he watched her disappear into the brush. He didn't know how to explain to her about who this Red Zealot really was, but he knew someone would have to. Not that it would make any difference in her state. Rishid recognized it all too well, even without all of his memories intact. But what on earth did she mean by the third pendant? His sister hadn't had time to fill him in on the discussion she and Adelpha had had the past night or he would have understood. But he supposed it had something to do with the pendants both Adelpha and Ishizu were wearing. And he supposed that Ishizu would understand what was meant.

Ishizu opened her eyes first. Though she had been mostly asleep, vaguely she had heard parts of Adelpha's and Rishid's conversation through the haze in her mind. It disturbed her to hear Adelpha's cold tones, though she had known that the other woman could very well undergo a change of personality after Paul's death. Ishizu had almost sensed it with the Millennium Tauk. "Hatred lays strong over her heart," she said softly, straightening up. The raven hair tumbled down her back, glistening in the rays of the dawning sun.

Rishid took his arm away from around her shoulders, watching the delicate woman take out her own pendant and gaze at it thoughtfully and silently. Ishizu and Adelpha were so very different in nearly every way. Ishizu's hair was long and dark, her skin softly tanned, while Adelpha's tresses were cut short and naturally light, her skin a gentle, whitish tone. And their personalities. . . . Ishizu was so ethereal and soft-spoken—and very much a preferred pacifist, though she understood wars were sometimes necessary—but Adelpha's roughness and bold speech pattern were suited to the soldier she had strived to be. Now she was driven by hate and revenge. Rishid didn't like to think what would happen if Ishizu ever started behaving in such a way. He couldn't even imagine it.

"And I believe," Ishizu spoke again, disturbing Rishid's train of thought, "that it will be her undoing." She sighed, running her hand over the gem's smooth surface. It was mostly the calm blue color at the moment, but she could see the faint fiery glow near the back of it. There would be much danger for all of them today. Ishizu was certain of it. And the gem sensed it as well.

Marik stirred now, slowly returning to the world of awareness. He started to stretch but then remembered Kade sleeping in his now-sore arms. With a wry smile he raised his gaze to meet Rishid's, who smiled back.

"My arms hurt," Marik said ruefully.

Rishid chuckled. "But do you regret it?" he asked, realizing how his own arms hurt from keeping them protectively around Marik and Ishizu all night.

Marik glanced down at Kade, who was happily hugging the teen and thinking of Marik as a surrogate father/big brother. The child gave a sigh in his sleep, burying his face in the lavender softness of Marik's shirt.

"No," the Egyptian acknowledged, "no regrets. None at all." He saw himself at that age, snuggled in the warmth and comfort of Rishid's arms. Somedays that had been the only thing holding Marik's sanity together. If Rishid had not been loving and kind and patient, letting Marik stay in his embrace for however long he needed to, the boy was certain that his story and his battle with the Yami that culminated in Battle City would have been much different—and perhaps a disaster and tragedy. Rishid's deep, unconditional love for Marik had been what had kept Yami Marik at bay for so long. And it had been what had convinced Marik to keep fighting and not to just accept his Yami's plot to have him killed.

Ishizu smiled over at him, her eyes bespeaking her concerns. "Good morning, my brother," she greeted. Disturbing thoughts traipsed through her mind as she wondered how much longer she would be blessed with seeing those lavender lilac eyes looking back at her or if Rishid's strong presence would remain with them still. She couldn't forget her premonition from when Paul had died. One of her brothers would die. She would lose one of these two precious souls, very soon. And she didn't know how she and whichever brother was left would handle it.

Marik smiled at his sister, but the agony in her eyes wasn't lost on him. He was about to ask what was wrong when Kade began to rouse and Marik turned his attention back to the child.

As Kade started to focus, he saw Marik looking down at him. A smile immediately came over his features. "Mr. Marik!" he exclaimed, hugging the teen tightly. "We're gonna find Mommy today, aren't we?"

"We'll try our best," Marik replied, not wanting to give any false hopes. He was touched by Kade's innocence and prayed that it would remain, unlike his own.

"Adelpha wishes for us to retrieve the third pendant," Rishid spoke quietly, not especially feeling that Kade needed to hear about it at this point. He looked from Ishizu to Marik, wondering what they would think about this. Ishizu already seemed to know, it was true, but Marik had no idea of it.

Marik raised an eyebrow. "What in Heaven's name is that?" he demanded to know.

Rishid sighed, looking to Ishizu.

Ishizu also sighed. She had known this was likely to come, but she had feared it. With Adelpha in her current state of mind, Ishizu knew things would not go well. Slowly she began to explain to her brothers what Adelpha had told her the previous night. Marik and Rishid both listened carefully, deeply concerned, while Kade simply blinked and wondered what was going on. He knew about the pendant Adelpha wore, and that it was important, but he hadn't realized there were others like it. And he certainly didn't realize the gems contained magic.

Marik's eyes narrowed as the full gravity of the whole situation dawned upon him. "I'm sure it won't be easy to get it," he muttered low. And he didn't think that Kade should be involved any more than he had to be. None of this was what a child should witness. If it wasn't for Yami Marik, Kade wouldn't be involved at all.

Ishizu's eyes were sad as she fingered her own pendant again. "No, it will not be easy," she agreed. "It will be dangerous for all of us." But with Adelpha's reign of fury, Ishizu felt that she would be in the most danger.

"I don't fear what may come," Adelpha's voice came to Rishid's ears for the second time that hour. She stepped into the sunlight, followed by her band of rebels. Denva, Marik observed, was there as well, looking as cruel as ever. "You're all awake. Let's go now."

"We cannot go rashly," Ishizu said, standing up with ease. "The one who holds the third piece will not relinquish it without a battle."

"I'm aware of that," Adelpha retorted, her pendant beginning to glow red as it sensed its owner's inner turmoil. The woman swiped at the blood-stained grass in her way, sending it to the ground in wilted pieces. "But when we all surround him, if he's still alive by then, he won't have any choice but to surrender. Two gems have twice the power of one."

Ishizu frowned at this. "Last night you told me that the talisman cannot activate without all three pieces," she said slowly. "But . . . perhaps each pendant contains part of the power, which can be utilized if one knows how to make it come alive?" She was sure that her suspicion was correct. She had seen some sort of powers, however strange they may be, within the gem she kept safe. If she could harness the power instead of being helpless as it ran rampant, then she might be able to accomplish something.

"That's right," Adelpha nodded coldly. "And Fafnir will regret crossing me."

Marik growled, letting Kade climb off his lap before standing himself. He couldn't hold back his feelings any longer. He, perhaps more than anyone else right now, saw how this could go out of hand. And so he looked Adelpha right in the eyes as he spoke. "Power isn't necessarily everything. It's how you use it and why. You want revenge, Adelpha, and I don't blame you for it in the least. But even if we do get the third piece because of you and these gems that you and Ishizu possess, your very soul will be affected by your actions. Revenge eats away at every part of you until it and hatred are all that's left." He made a gesture of finality with his hand to illustrate his point. "And you don't have your brother physically here to bring you back to the light, as my brother was there for me." Marik's voice quieted at this, looking down.

Rishid blinked as Marik stepped forward, but then smiled softly as he heard the boy's words. He got to his feet as well, laying a hand on Marik's shoulder as he, too, looked at Adelpha. Marik truly had found his way now. He was wise and courageous, just as Rishid had known in his heart and had seen during their stay here in Juno.

"Marik is right," Ishizu agreed, coming forward as well. "He speaks truths."

Kade looked at Marik with wide eyes, seeing the teen's outburst. At first he shrank back in fear, but when he saw how melancholy his new friend looked, the child ran forward and grabbed at his hand. "It's okay, Mr. Marik," he chirped. He knew that whatever Marik was upset about, it didn't involve him. And even if it did, he wanted to make amends for it. The last thing he wanted to do was to make Marik angry or sad.

Marik froze, having completely forgotten about Kade's presence. As he had spoken, it had only been him and Adelpha there. Then Rishid had come and Ishizu had stepped forward as well. And now Kade was here. Marik completely snapped back into the present, smiling down at the child and gently squeezing his hand. Then he turned his attention back to Adelpha, who still hadn't spoke and was studying the four of them as if attempting to decide what to think. "I do know this, Adelpha," he said softly. "If Paul could see you now—and I believe he can—he would be sorrowed to see your grief becoming anger and hatred. That was my mistake. I suffered with it for six years, since I was ten—and the scars I'll have to live with for the rest of my life."

Adelpha narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm not you," she retorted at last. "I'll decide how things will go for me—and for Juno. Fafnir and the Red Zealot have to be eliminated before they can do any more evil. Is it wrong for me to want to speed up that process?" Fire burned deep in the flashing green eyes.

"No, it is not," Ishizu said calmly. "But when your motives are more for revenge than rescuing the people, your judgement will be clouded. You may only endanger everyone worse instead of being able to save them."

"My motives are for justice!" Adelpha screamed in reply, raising her sword high above her head. "Who's with me? Do I stand alone?" She glared coldly at Ishizu. "I'll do this all by myself if I have to."

Ishizu pressed her lips into a thin line. She had a dark feeling about how all of this would turn out, but she knew it most likely would be worse if she and her brothers didn't go with Adelpha. If damage started to be administered, perhaps they would be able to fix it before it became drastic. "We are for justice as well," she said quietly, but was cut off before being able to say the rest.

"Justice!" her rebels echoed in unison, also raising their swords. They had sworn to follow Adelpha in life, assisting her with whatever she deemed necessary. Some were reluctant to give the battle cry, however, as they could see what the Ishtars could—Adelpha's usually sound judgement could become marred by the tragedy she had suffered. But still they felt they must follow her. Perhaps they, also, hoped to be able to avert a disaster if their leader unintentionally created one.

Kade looked up at Marik, puzzled. "What are they talking about, Mr. Marik?" he wanted to know. He had seen Adelpha and her men around the village many a time, and he knew that they were fighting against the enemies of Juno, but he didn't understand the harsh voices and big words. He did understand that nothing seemed to be being said about his mother, and for this he worried. Marik had promised to help Kade find her! What was going to happen now, the boy wondered. Had something "more important" for all these grown-ups come about and they would all leave without helping him, including Mr. Marik?

Marik sighed, ruffling the child's curly locks. "They're trying to determine the best way to defeat our enemies," he replied. "Now they've perhaps started to disagree on the methods, but the end result they want is the same." He knew this was true. Even he, in his moments of confusion and rage, had in the end only wanted justice done.

Kade blinked at him. "What about Mommy?" he whispered, his voice shaking. "You promised we'd find her, Mr. Marik! What's gonna happen now?" Angrily he wiped the tears away as they fell stubbornly from his eyes.

Marik knelt down in front of the poor boy, drying his tears gently. Determination shone in his eyes as he saw how lost and forlorn Kade looked. He knew he wouldn't break the promise. That had never entered his mind. "We'll still find her," he said firmly. Remembering his theory that Yami Marik had taken the woman, he brought Kade close in a hug. "I think, maybe, if we go with them, we'll find where she is," he added then.

"Really?" Kade said hopefully, throwing his arms around Marik's neck. Yes, Marik would come through for him. He had put all his trust in this gentle soul and it wouldn't be unfounded. The teenager was worthy of the trust and he would help at all costs.

"Yes," Marik said softly. Yami Marik would no doubt know of Adelpha's rage and hatred and want her to come to him. He would show up, Marik was certain. And then Marik would confront him about Kade's mother. He paused, his thoughts racing. He hated to take Kade with them, but what else could he do? Kade might be safer with him than if he stayed in the village. Once they had all left, it was possible that Yami Marik would return to finish the massacre he had started. It seemed, though, that he hadn't ever done such. Once he attacked a village, he usually went on to another one. But still Marik didn't want to leave Kade behind. He paused, drawing back to look into the child's eyes. "You do have to promise me something," he said now.

Kade stared into the lavender depths of Marik's orbs. "What's that, Mr. Marik?" he chirped.

Marik smiled. "You have to stay with me at all times," he replied, "and if we run into a problem, you have to let me and the other adults handle it." True, he wasn't really an adult yet, but in Kade's eyes he knew he was. It was hard to get used to being called "Mr. Marik," but he could tolerate it from this sweet, innocent child.

Kade nodded in agreement. "Okay," he smiled. "Just as long as we find Mommy!"

Marik prayed that they could and that it wasn't too late. He straightened up slowly, turning his attention back to the others. Now Adelpha seemed to be in a heated discussion with one of her scouts. Ishizu and Rishid were standing by, their expressions grave. When Rishid saw Marik looking over, he beckoned for him to come.

"What is it, Rishid?" Marik asked as he and Kade approached.

Rishid shook his head slowly. "That . . . being has struck again," he said darkly, still not certain what to call Yami Marik. He was still the Red Zealot and yet . . . now that Rishid had seen him and had seen his madness, that name didn't seem quite appropriate any longer. "Never before has he attacked villages two days in a row. And this time he set the village on fire." He pointed to a pillar of smoke in the distance.

Kade clutched at Marik's belt in fright when he saw it. Smoke and fire to him meant people dying. His father had died in a fire, his mother had told him. Kade had been too little to really remember it, but still the sight of the smoke made him anxious and upset.

"Adelpha is speaking with her scout to determine if our help is needed in that village right now," Ishizu spoke up quietly. "Part of her still does want to go to those people, but the other part wants to see revenge—or 'justice'—delivered to our enemies now. I am not certain which part of her will win." Her blue eyes shone with the concern she felt.

Marik put his arm around Kade gently. "Rishid," he said, looking back to his brother, "you said that . . . my Yami has never attacked two days in a row. Now that he has, what do you think it means?" He had a sneaking suspicion he already knew too well what it meant, but he was hoping, praying, that Rishid would tell him different.

Rishid had apparently been hoping the same from Marik. He narrowed his eyes, turning his gaze to the fire again. "It means that Fafnir and his cronie no longer see a need for the teasing suspense they have been putting us through. They must feel that Juno is almost conquered now."


	10. The Third Piece

Marik clenched his fists, hearing Rishid's words. He knew that more than likely that was, indeed, Fafnir's thought. He would think that all his plans had come to fruition. The king of Juno had been forced to flee for his life. The Red Zealot was inflicting death in all the major villages. Fafnir had the kingdom's army under his control. Just about every stronghold left in the land had fallen. It all sounded bleak.

But Marik also knew that Yami Marik must be plotting something else dastardly himself. The madman was at least somewhat intelligent. He would know that he couldn't count Marik and the others out just yet. Yami Marik may not be part of Marik—not anymore—but they had known each other's thoughts and feelings for longer than Marik cared to remember. Each knew the other's strengths and weaknesses—what made them happy, what made them upset. . . . Of course Yami Marik really had no interests beyond destroying everything and everyone in the world until he was the only one left. Marik felt that the creature was very one-dimensional, encompassing only the most vile and the most treacherous emotions of mankind. "He's taunting me," he breathed low.

Rishid looked at him with a frown. "What do you mean?" Marik didn't have to speak the name of the one he was referring to. Rishid understood very well.

Marik glared out at the smoke. "He's telling me that whatever I do, he's always one step ahead, just like when he took Kade's mother. He says that he will win because he's stronger than I am." Always it had been this way. Yami Marik had always insisted that he was the stronger one, the better one, because of his hatred for all people everywhere. He never looked out for anyone but himself. People, he said, were foolish, weak beings who should be exterminated from the face of the earth. He liked loneliness and wanted to bask in it for all eternity. Marik, he had said scornfully, was weak as well because he cared about Ishizu and Rishid so much. Surprisingly, though, Rishid—not Marik—was probably the person Yami Marik hated the most. Or maybe not so surprising, since Rishid had always been the only one able to hold him back from emerging. "But I'm going to prove him wrong," the teenager said darkly. "I'm going to prove to him that I'm the stronger one. I created him, even though it wasn't intentional. Now I have to be the one to fight him."

Rishid glanced back at Adelpha, who was now stalking away from her scout and coming toward them. "She may not be receptive to the idea," he grunted. He knew how Adelpha wanted to fight her brother's killer herself. He understood how she felt. If Marik was purposely harmed, Rishid would want to take vengeance himself. He would want to be the one to inflict pain upon the one who had brutally assaulted the brother he treasured, not standing back and letting someone else do it. In Adelpha's case it was only worse because she didn't know all of the dark secrets about Yami Marik and most likely wouldn't believe them once Marik tried to tell her.

"She'd only be killed if she tried," Marik retorted, his eyes watching Adelpha's every move as she approached. Of course he knew as well as Rishid did that Adelpha wasn't going to understand that.

Adelpha's own eyes darted about, glaring at each Ishtar in turn. She wasn't pleased in the least with the news of this development. Every delay meant a longer time before she would get to enact her justice. But her scout had said the entire village had burned to the ground. The people, the ones that were still alive, would need a new place to come to. They would need to be led here, to this village. It was the nearest one to them, and most of it was still standing. Abruptly she turned back to her scout again. "Go see that the villagers are brought here," she directed. "I have other pressing matters to attend to."

The scout swallowed hard, but then nodded. "Very well," he said hesitantly, turning away. He had seen the look of fire in Adelpha's eyes. Whatever she was getting into, he was sure, was not going to be good. But he knew better than to disagree with her.

"Will he be journeying alone?" Ishizu asked as Adelpha faced her once more. Surely there were many injuries in the village. The one scout wouldn't be able to handle everything himself. Ishizu felt that what would be best for everyone would be to go to the village, help the people, and then see about confronting their enemies. But she knew it wasn't likely that Adelpha would agree to the plan.

"I'll send a few others with him," Adelpha said shortly. "But I myself must go elsewhere." She laid the sword flatly in her hand, running her fingers across it and carefully touching the blade. It was still sharp. Perfect to make the kill. She would enjoy seeing Paul's murderer's blood decorating the metal.

"You don't even know anything about the one you want to face!" Marik burst out. "Do you think you can just fell him with your sword!" His lavender eyes burned with urgency as he tried to explain the truth about the vile being to Adelpha. He felt Kade clutching him again, most likely becoming nervous because of the anxious tones of Marik's voice.

Adelpha narrowed her eyes at him. "What do you know of this demon?" she demanded. "Do you believe he's infallible? No one is completely invincible, not even him."

Marik took a deep breath, silently willing himself to have the strength to say what he must now. "He isn't mortal," he finally replied quietly. Ishizu and Rishid came up next to him again and he drew courage from their presence. Adelpha, he was certain, would despise him if he told the full truth. Perhaps she would even think _he_ had to die for justice to be served. But even so, Marik knew he must tell this. "He's a being of complete darkness, created by feelings of anger, confusion, and hatred. He loves no one and no one loves him. His sole purpose is to destroy humanity. That sword you're holding won't defeat him, especially not when its fuel is the same force of hatred that gave him birth."

Adelpha leaned forward, bringing the tip of her sword to Marik's throat. "You know, I've never killed with this weapon, though it's wounded many." She tickled the underside of the teen's chin with the sharp point, barely succeeding in not drawing blood.

Marik glared at her, holding very still. He knew that the slightest movement could jar the sword and plunge it into his flesh. There wasn't all that much of his neck that wasn't covered by the choker, but there was enough for it to be dangerous in this situation. But he somehow didn't think she was attempting to harm him. The desire was not in her eyes, though for a split-second Marik had thought his suspicions were being fulfilled.

Rishid and Ishizu, however, were both thunderstruck. "Release him!" Rishid rumbled as Ishizu ran forward. How could Adelpha be toying with their brother's life this way? She wouldn't stand for someone acting like this with Paul. And Rishid wouldn't stand for this.

Kade's eyes were wide in alarm at the sudden scene. "Please!" he begged. "Don't hurt Mr. Marik! Please don't! . . ." He tugged on Adelpha's tunic frantically, tears falling from his eyes. "He's my new friend! I don't want him to go, like . . . like. . . ." His lip trembled. "Like Mommy and Daddy both did."

Marik's heart was touched and shredded all the same moment. Many had said he was cruel and cold, a being who cared nothing for others. And, during Battle City, perhaps that was mostly true. But never had he laid a finger of harm to a child. He couldn't. He hated for Kade to be viewing the darker side of humanity at such a young age. Perhaps in some ways, he and Kade were similar. And his resolve hardened. He didn't want them to become any more similar, not in the darker points. Kade wouldn't suffer the way Marik had. Not if Marik had anything to say about it.

Then Adelpha drew the sword back, her eyes not changing. "Even now, I wouldn't shed innocent blood," was her solemn answer to the pleas and demands. She looked into Marik's eyes. "I wouldn't harm this boy. He's the same age as Paul was." Her voice became far and distant. She could see some of Paul in Marik's eyes—the kindness, the bravery, the boyishness. Carefully she again laid the weapon flat in her palm. "But I will shed guilty blood with my sword," she said darkly. "And the being that killed Paul, mortal or not, is guilty."

"Oh, he's guilty, of course," Marik said, recovering from the shock and embracing first Kade, as the child threw his arms around Marik's waist, and then Ishizu, as she reached him. He wouldn't admit that for a moment he'd doubted Adelpha's remaining sanity. Soon he had realized that she wasn't going to hurt him, though he wasn't entirely sure what her purposes really had been.

Rishid came over as well, relaxing, and laid a hand on Marik's shoulder. His heart had nearly ceased to beat when Adelpha had brought the blade to the boy's neck. Rishid hadn't known whether the woman would slit Marik's throat in her current state. But Marik, thank God, was safe. Adelpha hadn't completely lost her senses.

Marik continued. "But even though he's guilty, you won't be able to deliver the justice you so badly want. Don't you understand!" Well, of course she didn't. _That was a foolish thing to say,_ Marik berated himself. "He can't be killed—not by mortal weapons! The only thing that could possibly vanquish him—or begin to—is a justice that comes without hatred and revenge as baggage. That's the only way I was ever able to overcome his power." He faced Adelpha, steely-eyed, ready to accept whatever judgements she placed upon him now.

Adelpha clenched the fist that was not holding the sword. "_You_ had to overcome his power?" she said pointedly. "What sort of hold did he have over you?" Her eyes darted from Marik to Kade to Ishizu and Rishid, demanding an explanation for Marik's cryptic statements.

"He had my body," Marik replied quietly. "I was the one who breathed life into him." He looked at Adelpha, watching her sharp intake of breath. Her eyes shrank to tiny pinpricks as she simply stared at him. Never did she speak, but for an agonizing five minutes she gazed at the teenage boy, unable to believe or comprehend what she was hearing. She clutched at the sword, starting to lift it, and then lowered it again. This repeated several times.

At last Marik spoke again. "You said you wouldn't shed innocent blood," he remarked. "If you now consider my blood guilty, then slay me. But. . . ." He paused as Kade gripped him tighter, the poor child's body shaking in fear of what was to become of his dear friend. Ishizu and Rishid both gasped and Ishizu called out to him. "If you do this," Marik continued, "know that you will be leaving my brother and sister as heartbroken as you are now. Not to mention the child you see here." He laid a hand gently on Kade's curly head. "I made a promise to him to help him find his mother. Will you cause this promise to be broken? And do you truly want to fell someone in front of his guileless eyes?" Perhaps he was taking a chance, but he thought not. He knew Adelpha's heart was breaking, but if any part of her sanity was still intact, she would not use her sword on him.

And then Adelpha let out the breath she was holding. "No," she hissed, stabbing the ground with her sword.

For the second time in five minutes everyone visibly relaxed in relief. Marik smiled faintly, having stayed calm throughout the incident. "I never wanted that creature to be born," he told Adelpha now. "I suffered with his presence for six years. When I finally banished him from my body I thought he was gone for good. But because of what he truly is, he could not and did not die."

Adelpha was silent for another long time. "A justice without hatred and revenge, huh?" she muttered, pulling her sword back out of the earth and studying it. Marik was right. Even if she was fighting a mortal, Adelpha couldn't let her hatred drive her. That would actually only make her weaker, not stronger, and it would dishonor Paul and their mother. She couldn't allow that.

Ishizu smiled quietly. "Let us go stop Fafnir and that evil being now," she declared. She had a feeling things would be alright. At least, she was certain Adelpha wouldn't do anything rash. It seemed that Marik had finally gotten through to her. But there was still the lingering fear of her brothers' fate. It was horrible, knowing that one would perish. Ishizu closed her eyes tightly now, willing the feeling to go away. Wasn't it possible . . . couldn't it be possible . . . that it wouldn't really happen? The future could be changed! . . .

_Now where had that come from? _she wondered in confusion. Someone had taught it to her, during a time when she had been extremely grief-stricken, but she couldn't remember who it had been or why she had been upset. But if the future could be changed now, Ishizu didn't know how to do it.

She looked back at her brothers. Perhaps . . . if the future could be changed, she had to tell them of her premonition. If they knew, and then perhaps could take greater cautions, there was a chance that no one would die.

Adelpha was again gathering her rebels—all that remained after sending those others to the burned village—when another reddish-orange gleam, coming from the direction of the palace, caught her eye. She turned to look at the flames, wondering in concern if the palace itself was on fire. _It could be,_ she supposed, _but what would be more likely would be if it was the. . . ._

"What in Heaven's name is going on!" Marik's odd voice exclaimed suddenly. Adelpha turned to see what he was referring to and found him gazing up at the sky. When she followed his gaze, she saw many of the winged forest creatures flying frantically through the air, having come from the direction of the palace. And she knew then that her suspicion was right. _This time Yami Marik had set the forest on fire!_ The animals were obviously trying to escape from there before they were all consumed.

"He's destroying Juno, piece by piece!" Marik burst out now. He narrowed his eyes darkly, wishing that this would all stop. But he knew it would not, not until they battled their enemies and won. Fafnir and Yami Marik were cruel, heartless opponents who stopped at nothing. Now, with Kade's mother still missing and what was left of Juno being massacred and burned, it was a race against time to stop them.

Adelpha didn't answer, concentrating on watching the frightened creatures. She was looking for one in particular. When she saw it, the woman cried with a loud voice, commanding the elegant winged horse to land. That Pegasus had been her friend from years before. Adelpha needed her assistance now. "Laidly! Come here!" she yelled again when the animal only looked down but didn't cease her flight.

Kade blinked at the majestic creature in awe. "Is the horsie coming down, Mr. Marik?" he asked, fascinated.

Marik watched as it drew nigh at last, hearing Adelpha's voice. "It seems to be," he realized. He started to understand what Adelpha wanted from the creature. Most likely she wanted it to take them to the palace. But . . . just one of the animals wouldn't be able to take all of Adelpha's army. It would take all of the Pegasus horses to carry every one of them.

Ishizu smiled a bit in a mysterious way. "A Kioli," she declared, remembering from her research. "A flying unicorn." She had found the creatures very intriguing and had studied everything she could about them. They were strong and intelligent, she remembered, rumored to understand human speech. Indeed, as the animal landed and as Adelpha spoke to it, it whinnied and looked back at the sky. In a moment the other Kioli also landed, surrounding the army and spreading their wings. They were larger and longer than regular horses, appearing to be able to hold three or four people.

Kade looked delighted. "They're big horsies, Mr. Marik!" he said, running to the one Adelpha had called down and reaching out to pet it. It blinked at him, not moving and seeming to be gentle.

Marik smiled, enjoying again seeing the child's happiness. He only prayed he could keep his promise and reunite Kade with his mother. If he could not, he would have to consider perhaps even the possibility of taking Kade back with him and his siblings. But he really didn't want to do that. Kade belonged here, not in Domino City. He wouldn't be familiar with such an extremely modern world. True, Juno wasn't completely primitive. The palace had plumbing and electricity. But in the little villages it was like stepping back in time to perhaps a sixth-century Welsh community. Marik had a feeling Fafnir was responsible a good deal for that. He was certain that the man had all the conveniences he wanted in his own home, while keeping them from everyone whom he considered inferior.

Rishid came up next to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. He knew that Adelpha intended for them to ride the Kioli. Now that all the beasts were here, he could see it was a wise decision. There would be enough for all of them. And coming in from the sky might enable them to give a bit of a surprise entrance. "Let us go," he said softly. Maybe then this would all end. Rishid wanted to defeat their enemies. He wanted to get all his memories back. And he just wanted to know that his siblings could be safe.

Marik nodded. "Yes," he agreed, starting to step forward.

"Wait, brothers," Ishizu said quietly, coming in front of them. She looked into each pair of eyes, her heart sinking again at the thought that one of the two might close their eyes, never to open them again. Agony tore at her soul, but she forced herself to stay calm. That had always been her specialty—remaining calm through the deep disasters and tragedies of their lives. She remembered that.

Marik tilted his head to the side. "What is it, sister?" he asked. He had seen for some time that she was upset about something, but he still couldn't understand what, exactly, it was. He knew that they needed to go, but right now he was concerned to know what Ishizu wanted.

The woman sighed sadly, clasping her hands. "Brothers," she began finally, knowing she had to start somewhere, "last night I had a premonition. It was right after Paul passed on. . . ." She bit her lip, tears coming to her eyes as she told them of how she had felt that she would lose one of them today. It had been a very strong impression and Ishizu knew that it hadn't come from her own mind. Gently she reached out, taking their strong hands for comfort. "Perhaps," she said softly, "we may be able to change this future if we take caution."

And her brothers both hugged her close, reassuring her that they would. They would do everything that they could to make certain their family wasn't divided again, especially after they'd come through all this.

* * *

"There's the palace."

Adelpha came alongside the Kioli that the Ishtars were riding. She was atop her own special one of the creatures, pointing ahead at the too-familiar building. Her eyes narrowed. This was it. The final battle, in which she would avenge Paul's death and the current destruction of the land they both had loved.

Marik glared ahead, feeling the wind blowing his hair about. Yes, there it was. The palace—where this had all began. Now it would be where everything would end, for good or for ill. They would face their enemies in the final battle that would determine all their fates. And Marik could sense his Yami's presence as the Kioli drew nearer. The fiend was anxious for them to fight. Marik knew it would be a battle of life and death. One that he might not win. He knew that with a sad assurance. He knew he might die fighting his Yami. Ishizu had been afraid that he would. How could he make her fears founded? But he knew he wouldn't die if he could help it. Not that he would be able to.

"Now," Adelpha called darkly to Marik, "we're going to split up. I'll take half of my army and Ishizu and go after the third pendant. You go find the kid's mother." She wanted to get Kade out of the picture as soon as possible so she wouldn't have to worry about endangering the child. But she didn't know that Kade and his mother still had a critical part to play in the tale.

Ishizu swallowed hard, not pleased with this plan. If she was separated from her brothers, how would she be able to make sure that they would be safe? She had been clinging to the hope that she would be with her brothers and could watch over them. But she knew Adelpha most likely was right. Ishizu should go with her. She had the second pendant, after all. But still she hated the thought of Marik having to face his Yami without her there. And yet, Rishid would be there. He had always been there. Rishid wouldn't leave Marik to fight alone.

"Sister?"

Ishizu looked at Marik, who was in front of her on the Kioli and had turned to see her. She had her arms around his waist so she wouldn't fall. Rishid was behind her and Kade was on Marik's lap, currently oblivious to all danger. "Marik," she said quietly, still having her doubts about going as she looked into his expressive lavender lilac eyes.

But he smiled kindly in a melancholy way. "It's alright, sister," he told her. "You have your mission and I have mine. And when it's over, we'll meet again." His hair blew about in the wind as he gazed at her with the sad, yet determined orbs.

"That is right," Rishid smiled too, keeping a firm grip on his sister. "Do not fear, Ishizu. We will be safe. And you must stay safe as well." He and Marik wanted Ishizu to leave probably about as much as she wanted to leave. But Rishid was certain that Adelpha and her men would look after her. And Ishizu was capable of looking out for herself. She would, hopefully, be safe. "Your mission will be dangerous too."

Their Kioli descended onto the palace roof, followed by all the others. Kade looked up at Marik, grinning with delight at the experience. "When we save Mommy, Mr. Marik, can we bring her on the horsie?" He had been holding onto his "surrogate father's" arms during the flight and now clapped his hands in pleasure.

Marik smiled again, but still it was a sad smile. "Of course," he replied, helping the child get down. There was still the worry of whether his mother was, indeed, still alive. He didn't know how he'd bear to tell Kade if that were so. He stepped down to the crystal roof and reached out for Ishizu to assist her in coming down from the Kioli as well. She smiled, accepting the boy's help.

As their hands touched, Ishizu felt a jolt go through her body. _This may be the last time you see him alive,_ a voice in her heart warned. She stared into Marik's eyes with alarm, not able to comprehend this. Since she had found Marik and Rishid in the palace, her life had been changed for the best. She understood that they had all loved each other before. Thinking of losing Marik now seemed too horrible, too unreal. Really, he was only a boy, even though his wisdom went far beyond his physical age. But in spite of all the wisdom, all the weariness, and all the ways he had proven he was a mature soul, there was still a tinge of impish boyishness in his being. Part of him just longed to be innocent and unknowledgeable of the evils of the world.

"Marik," Ishizu whispered when she was on the roof, reaching out and touching his cheek. The boy looked at her, surprised, and then pulled his elder sister close. He knew what she was afraid of. He was still concerned himself that it might come true. But he couldn't let it.

"We _will_ meet again, sister," he vowed, smiling. "I promise."

Ishizu bit her lip, knowing that there were some things no one could always control, not even Marik. But she returned the hug gratefully before looking up at Rishid and silently pleading for him to watch over their younger brother. Ishizu was sure, now, that Marik's life was the one in danger, though she didn't rule out the possibility of Rishid being the one to die. He could end up gladly sacrificing his life for his brother's, as Ishizu was certain he had nearly done before. "Nearly," of course, because he was still alive.

Rishid gazed back at his dear sister and then laid a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. He smiled, recalling when he had first seen her in his quarters at the palace, completely drenched and sporting a badly torn dress—but still managing to stay dignified. He had been intrigued and drawn to her, happy to find a strong-willed woman who wasn't afraid at the least little things. Then he had learned from Marik that she was their sister. He had seen over the last few days just what a wonderful sister she was to them both.

"Ishizu," Adelpha called quietly, "my scouts found two ways in. Let's go." She hated to break up the family moment, especially if someone would wind up dead before the battle's end, but time was precious. They had to get in before they were seen. There was the possibility that Fafnir and his Red Zealot already knew they were on the roof and that they were both laying in wait to attack, but Adelpha knew they had to take their chances anyway. Actually, she was fairly certain that their arrival was expected. Getting the third pendant would most likely not be easy.

Ishizu sighed sadly, pulling away from her brothers. "We will meet again," she repeated Marik's words firmly before pulling her veil up and following Adelpha without looking back. If she looked back, she feared that she would change her mind and go running to them both. Walking away from them now was perhaps the hardest decision she had needed to make since discovering them here in Juno.

"Yes," Marik vowed, gazing after her, "yes, sister, we will." Then, with the rest of Adelpha's army in tow, he and Rishid set out with Kade to enter the palace from the other way and find the child's mother—and, most likely, Yami Marik. It was a meeting Marik was definitely not looking forward to.

* * *

Ishizu followed Adelpha down a long corridor once they were inside the palace. She had traveled this path many times and now was able to give directions on exactly where it led. If Colchis had the third pendant, and if he were in his room, this hall would lead right to him any moment now.

"Draw your swords," Adelpha instructed her men. One by one they all did, the metals glistening in the dimmed light. Of course, if and when Colchis began a battle with the pendants, swords would be of no use. Only the gems' magic would work then.

Ishizu looked at her. "What sorts of magic will our two pendants be capable of?" she wanted to know. Slowly she took hers out from inside her dress, startled as she saw the color now a determined red. In the past when it had gone red, it intended to attack and usually did. Now it seemed more like it was waiting for something. Upon noticing another red glow, Ishizu realized that Adelpha's was the same way.

Adelpha looked grim. "That's the interesting part," she replied. "Geates' Talisman was able to perform attacks originating from all of the main elements—fire, wind, and water—plus additional assaults of energy beams and such. Separately, each pendant should have a portion of the powers, but I don't know which ones have which powers. Mine never does anything except glow, change hues, and randomly blast people."

"Perhaps," Ishizu deduced, "there must be two or more present in order for the powers to work at all." But if such was true, she wondered, what would happen when the third piece appeared?

Abruptly the lights went on full-force, dazzling everyone there. A low chuckle echoed across the large corridors and bounced off the walls as Colchis walked out onto a balcony above them and sneered down at his intruders.

"What have we here?" he smiled sickeningly, turning his gaze to Ishizu. "It's been so long, Isis. You've found some new friends, I see." He looked at Adelpha and her renegades with interest, seeming to be taking everything in. "Why, you've brought wanted criminals into the palace. Is this a gift?" Adelpha and her band of rebels were well known throughout Juno, and since they were an annoyance to Fafnir and his plans, he had recently put out an order for their arrest. Since Rishid and his siblings had fled the palace, Colchis had claimed command and gladly had followed up on Fafnir's wishes, for they were his own as well.

Ishizu frowned coldly. "No," she responded, "it is an end to your evil ways." Then she watched in astonishment as her pendant, quickly followed by Adelpha's, broke free of their chains and rose into the air. _They must have sensed the third piece!_ she realized.

Colchis, shocked at first, slowly smirked low. "It is indeed a gift," he proclaimed. "I've been searching everywhere for those. With them, I, not Fafnir, will have the power." But then a glow came from within his robes and the third pendant broke free, immediately floating the short distance to the other two.

Adelpha shielded her eyes. "They're going to merge!" she breathed.

Suddenly there came a tremendous burst of light, sending everyone backwards to the floor!


	11. The Final Battle

For Marik and Rishid, getting in the palace wasn't easy. There were guards patrolling the area directly below, often glancing up at the skylight where the Egyptians and the others were situated.

"Oh joy," Marik muttered. He clenched his fists, wondering how on earth they were going to get in, especially with Kade there. His eyes darted about, looking for a way in that would bring as little danger as possible. Maybe, he thought after watching the guards for ten minutes, if they could pull up the skylight door quietly, one of them could sneak down and subdue the sentries. Then the others could come down as well.

Denva, who was with them—unfortunately, Marik thought—growled in irritation. "Let's just go down there and kill them all!" he said emphatically, waving his sword about.

Marik had to duck before his hair was clipped. "Watch it!" he snapped. "You're not in charge here. Rishid and I are." Carefully he outlined his plan to the others, knowing that Denva wouldn't like it but not caring.

Rishid sighed but nodded. Marik's plan was dangerous, but not near so much so—or as foolish—as Denva's. And Marik's idea involved no bloodshed. "We will do this," he said finally, "on the condition that I be the one to go down."

Marik immediately looked at him in protest. "But Rishid. . . ."

Rishid held up a hand for silence. "I am physically the strongest out of you and me," he replied, obviously not trusting any of Adelpha's crew to go down first. "And I ruled from inside this building for several weeks. I know the layout better than you do, Marik. I will be fine." He reassured the teenager with a smile.

Marik sighed, knowing Rishid had made some important points. "Go," he said finally, seeing Kade staring into the hole with fascination. He had to smile as he kept a firm arm around the child to keep him from descending into it.

Rishid squeezed Marik's shoulder gently before climbing into the opening and lowering himself onto a desk below. Naturally he wasn't able to land very softly, but that hadn't been his plan. When the guards came to see what the noise was, Rishid punched them both and then dragged their unconscious bodies into a closet after relieving them of their weapons.

"Wow," Kade breathed. "Your brother's really awesome, Mr. Marik!" He had never seen anyone so strong and fierce yet gentle. The only other people he'd seen who were vicious were always that way, never showing that they had a heart. But he could see that Rishid definitely did have a heart—and a great one. He loved Marik completely and unconditionally.

Marik smiled. "I know," he replied, slowly standing up. "Now . . . I need to get you down in there." He ruffled Kade's hair and reached for the child, lifting him up into his arms. "Hold on tight to me now," he instructed, preparing to leap down. Originally he had planned to gently lower Kade down and have Rishid catch him, but now he had decided that it would be safer to do it this way.

"Okay," Kade said agreeably, hugging Marik around the neck. In the next instant he felt as if he was flying and he giggled as Marik hit the desk on his feet. "Let's do it again," he grinned while the boy climbed down to the floor.

Marik chuckled softly. "We need to find your mother," he stated, hoping to deter Kade from such thoughts.

Kade jumped down from his friend's arms, freezing at these words. "Uh huh," he said softly, his eyes suddenly tearing up. "Mommy. . . ."

Marik took the child's hand gently, hearing the army coming in behind them. "Come," he instructed, walking to Rishid. As he did, he glanced about at the sprawling hallways. He hadn't ever been in this part of the palace before. At the top of the walls were golden lions and snakes painted in a long strip that went all the way around. The floors and walls were all still made of marble, as in the part Marik was familiar with. Crystal chandeliers hung from various fixtures up and down the corridors and Marik noticed an ornately decorated lamp on another desk.

Rishid smiled kindly at the boy. Indeed, he knew this area. And he had an idea where they should go to look for Kade's mother—the dungeons. There was a staircase not too far away leading all the way down there, as well as one going up to the roof. But they wouldn't have been able to get inside that way—it was locked from the inside.

They weren't prepared for what abruptly happened when they started walking toward the stairs. Without warning half the floor opened up underneath them, causing all of them to plunge downward!

Marik cried out in shock, grabbing onto the edge desperately with one hand, still trying to hold Kade as well. He couldn't comprehend why or how this was happening, but now his main thoughts were about getting back up and protecting his young charge—and finding out if the others were alright, of course. "Rishid!" he yelled, peering into the dark chasm below. There was no answer. Either Rishid was too far away to hear him, he was unconscious from the fall, or worse. . . .

"Mr. Marik!" Kade wailed, grabbing his friend's arm with both hands. He was dangling precariously over the blackness and he didn't like it one bit.

Marik gritted his teeth, trying to determine how he would ease his body back onto the solid floor with only the use of one hand. It seemed impossible! But he couldn't let himself plunge into the unknown, especially not with Kade to protect.

Suddenly a tanned hand shot out from above, snatching Marik's wrist. The boy found himself being hauled up and he blinked in surprise. Who was this? It didn't feel like Rishid's touch, warm and caring and concerned. Anyway, he had seen Rishid fall into the pit. But he had no time to ponder over this as he, with Kade in tow, was flung up and over the edge and skidded across the floor. Kade yelped in shock, hugging Marik tightly.

A throaty chuckle echoed down the hall. "Get up," the voice ordered as its owner stepped closer, cuffing at Marik with a foot. "You heard me, Hikari. Rise, so that we may bring our conflict to an end, once and for all!"

Marik blinked away the spots from his eyes, his blood going chill. It was Yami Marik who had pulled him up, but only because he wanted to kill Marik personally with his own hands and not let a fall into a pit do it for him. Marik and Kade were now in much more danger than before, and he still didn't know if Rishid was alright. Or Ishizu, for that matter.

Rishid opened his eyes slowly, at first not certain at all of what had happened. Upon seeing only odd shapes and vague outlines he closed his eyes again, recovering from the shock and attempting to draw memory forth from his mind. The last thing he remembered at all was Marik calling to him, sounding worried. But he had been too dazed to answer him.

He opened his eyes again, this time managing to make out the objects more clearly. Just ahead of him were many bars, like those of a dungeon cell, lined up neatly in order. All around him were Adelpha's men, regaining their bearings and looking as perplexed as Rishid. And . . . did he see someone watching them through the bars? It seemed as if he could vaguely make out two eyes glimmering in the darkness. Then he heard a voice calling to him. A female voice.

"You seem to be alright," it said softly. Rishid could hear the sound of a person shifting position. When he looked carefully, he saw the outline of a person behind the bars. "Do you know where my son is?" the woman continued, her voice now tinged with worry.

Rishid pulled himself into a sitting position, rubbing his hand over the tender spot on his head. "Who are you?" he growled, wondering how on earth he'd wound up in the dungeon. After all, he had been on the top level of the palace! He couldn't possibly have survived a fall all the way to the bottom level. And where was Marik? Rishid slowly felt a panic begin to arise as he looked around and saw no trace of his younger brother or Kade.

The woman smiled faintly. "Sapphire," she answered, continuing to watch Rishid as he slowly got up. The one who had taken her captive had told her that her son would be coming, but he had spoken in such a mocking tone that Sapphire feared harm had been done.

Rishid walked over closer to the bars. "Is Kade your son?" he asked, certain he already knew the answer. He could see a certain resemblance between her and the child—the same heart-shaped face, the same gleam in the eyes, and the same worried, almost innocent expression.

Sapphire brightened. This man did know her son! And she recognized those with him to be Adelpha's army—who she had often seen in the village—so the stranger must be a friend. Perhaps there was still hope, both for her and Kade and for the kingdom! "Yes!" she replied earnestly. "Where is he?"

Rishid frowned now, looking for a way to unlock the cell door. "I do not know," he said at last. "Hopefully he is still with my younger brother, who he idolizes." After glancing around the dark space a bit longer, he noticed an abandoned crowbar and picked it up. He would attempt to wrench the door open with it.

Sapphire looked at him with surprise. While Kade was friendly with everyone, he had been afraid to latch on to any one person since her husband—Kade's father—had been tragically killed. This "younger brother," she realized, must be someone very special and different. Perhaps he even reminded Kade of his father, or at least, what he knew of his father from what Sapphire had told him.

She watched as Rishid wrestled with the door, at last succeeding in getting it open. "What is your brother like?" she asked. "And . . . who are you?" He seemed like an intelligent, strong man, capable of accomplishing much. As she stepped out into the hall, she couldn't help but notice the tattoos so meticulously carved into the left side of his face. How had he gotten those? And why? The symbols were unlike anything there was in Juno. Suddenly she wondered if this was Odion, the one she had heard about who had taken control of the throne. But this man seemed too kind and good to fit the description she had heard of the king.

Rishid grunted, now looking for the way out of the corridor. "Your son couldn't be with any boy more honorable than Marik," he stated. "And as for my identity, I am Rishid Ishtar." He didn't hesitate for one moment while he said it. Because of Marik, he had rediscovered who he was. And he would never forget again.

Sapphire nodded slowly. "I see," she said slowly, choosing her words with care. "Then you are not Lord Odion, the one whom I thought you might be."

Rishid froze. "I have been called by that name," he responded at last, "but that is not what I choose to be called." He didn't want to go into all the details, especially not here, but he wasn't about to lie to the woman either. And, as Marik had told him, "Odion" was actually his middle name.

Now Sapphire was stunned. "You don't seem anything like the Lord Odion I have heard tales about," she remarked. He was reputed to be cruel and cold, though now the woman recalled another story told of him, in which he was thought to be kind, unlike the previous kings. She didn't know exactly what Fafnir had in mind by selecting the rulers he did—especially instead of simply claiming the throne himself—but she did know that the man often had a secret agenda completely unknown to anyone save himself.

"No," Rishid agreed, "I am certain I do not."

A footfall brought everyone to attention before the conversation could continue. "Well, isn't this quaint," a dark, cold voice remarked. From out of the shadows stepped a man who Rishid had never seen in person, but whose identity as Fafnir was instantly obvious. The calculating face, devoid of emotion, completely resembled the statues all through the palace and Juno. Flashing eyes took in the scene, not seeming surprise by the sight of Sapphire freed—or of Adelpha's army of rebels.

"I expected you to release the queen, Odion—or should I say, Rishid Ishtar." Fafnir came down the stone steps he had been standing atop of, his long hair spilling over his back. He was dressed in what almost seemed to be a uniform, including a floor-length cape. "It's all according to plan."

But Rishid was reeling in shock from the announcement. "Queen!" he repeated, looking at Sapphire and demanding either confirmation or denial.

Sapphire gazed back, never wavering. "Yes," she admitted, revealing the long-lost secret, "I am the true ruler of Juno. Kade is a prince." But Kade didn't remember it. He had been too young to remember the night when they had been forced to flee the palace and go into hiding within the small village. Always Sapphire had been planning how she would retake the throne from those who had risen up in rebellion—Fafnir being the main one, of course, though rarely anyone knew the truth. But because of fear for Kade's safety she had never made her move.

Now everything was happening at once and she knew she could put her destiny off no longer. Juno was being destroyed. So many people had died needlessly because of Fafnir and his Red Zealot. Sapphire could only pray that she would still be able to utilize the powers she had as queen and that Kade would be safe in the meantime. It was time to let all the truth be known.

She looked at Fafnir with quiet rage. "You are celebrated in Juno for supposedly saving the kingdom, more than once," the woman began. "But we both know what truly happened that night when I was involved. I can never forget. That was the night when you killed my husband and forced Kade and myself to run for our lives! You told everyone in the kingdom that you had discovered our 'plots' to use Geates' Talisman for evil and that you had stopped us—permanently." She clenched her fists tightly, drawing blood that dripped to the floor. "You took my husband away from me. My son will never grow up with his father because of you." Tears started to gather in her eyes, though she fiercely tried to hold them back. "And I imagine that, years before that, when you first were hailed as a hero, there were many dark secrets behind it that no one but you knows about!"

Rishid watched her with narrowed eyes. This twist was still hard to comprehend. The child with Marik was a royal prince? And his mother, who had been living as a peasant in the village, was the current rightful heir to the kingdom? He raised his gaze to Fafnir, feeling fury rising at the immense wickedness that this man had caused all in the name of greediness and power. Countless families had been torn apart and endless lies had been told! His own dear family had been separated and nearly torn apart.

Fafnir listened to Sapphire's accusations coldly, not caring as she reminded him of these truths. Yes, it had all been for power. He felt nothing for the people he had destroyed through the years. Once he had Geates' Talisman, Juno would be his. The three gems that combined to make the Talisman were all in the palace—he knew it. After this disturbance was taken care of, he would go retrieve them. "Are you finished?" he asked dryly. The palace guards appeared behind him, weapons bared.

It was then that Rishid finally realized where they were. They had not fallen into the basement. Instead they were in a more recently made, cleaner dungeon right below the top level. Rishid remembered exploring the area now. It had been made to hold extremely dangerous prisoners. And he remembered another way out, a secret way that the guards used. If he could get Sapphire to leave with him, they could go find Marik and Kade. They might hopefully find Ishizu and Adelpha as well. The problem was, Sapphire looked like she intended to battle Fafnir. Rishid didn't know if he could get her to come.

Indeed, the woman closed her eyes, her hair flowing in all directions as a soft breeze went through the room. A light glowed about her, enabling Rishid to finally see her clearly. Her hair was a deep, beautiful blue, naturally curled and wavy, and obviously contributing to her name. Her eyes were blue as well, albeit a much lighter shade, as Rishid could see when she opened them again. Righteous indignation gleamed within them as she hovered in the air, bringing her hands together.

Everyone, including Rishid and especially Fafnir, were baffled as to what she was doing.

"What is this!" Fafnir thundered, shielding his eyes from the light. The gentle breeze turned into a harsh wind, blowing his cape and hair about—as well as everyone else's. The woman in front of him was now chanting low, almost in a prayer-like manner.

When she was done she gazed at him icily. "The three pendants are reunited at last," she declared. "I'm using the power within me, that was bestowed upon the rightful leaders of Juno, to bring them here!"

Ishizu slowly recovered from the explosion that had sent her to the floor. Blearily she looked up at the space where the three pendants had met. Now there were only extreme glows in hues of blue, green, and red. No one, it seemed, could see through to what was happening inside the lights.

Adelpha rubbed her eyes, looking up as well. "They're merging," she stated darkly. The question was, What would happen when they did? She and Ishizu had to be ready to make a grab for the completed Talisman when the lights dimmed down. Colchis would be preparing to claim the necklace as his own, and under no circumstances could they let him get it.

But there was also the question of whether the Talisman would let anyone "get it." Individually the pendants seemed to object to some people even so much as touching them. Perhaps the Talisman would behave the same way, only more so.

Ishizu got to her feet, reaching her hand into the lights as they lowered to soft glows. In the middle, visible to everyone now, was a brilliant, multicolored gem that sparkled and shined, catching the lights overhead and everyone in the room. Geates' Talisman was completed once again and ready for battle. And it must be claimed by the side of righteousness or Juno would be doomed!

Both Adelpha and Colchis also reached out. Their hands all interlocked with Ishizu's, but before any one of them could take hold of the Talisman, another bright light encircled them all. Then it seemed as if they were transported through time and space, the Talisman always just out of their reach. Though it only lasted for several seconds, it seemed an eternity. All three were wondering the same thing: _Was the Talisman responsible for this!_ That seemed to be the most likely explanation. What else could be causing it?

Suddenly Ishizu gave a gasp, her Millennium Tauk revealing a brief vision to her. "There is a woman," she remarked as they traveled through a brilliantly sparkling tunnel of lights, all multicolored as the Talisman was. "She is praying for the Talisman to be brought to her!"

Adelpha gave a gasp, realizing the truth of the matter. But before she could explain it, their strange trip was ended and they all landed down gently on their feet in the same chamber where Rishid and the others were. The Talisman gave light to the entire dungeon room, bathing everyone in its glow. It hovered near the ceiling, out of everyone's reach—much to both Fafnir's and Colchis's consternation.

Rishid was startled, to say the least, but when he realized what had happened he looked about for Ishizu. She smiled when their eyes locked. "My brother," she said softly, moving over to where he was standing. "I have the feeling that our adventure is about to come to a close." It seemed strange to realize this, but it must be true. Soon, perhaps, they would return to the Domino City Marik had spoken of. When they left, hopefully Juno would be restored to its former glory. Of course, they would not leave until they had defeated their enemies.

"Yes," Rishid said quietly, relieved that she was safe. "I only pray that Marik remains safe, wherever he is." He clenched his fists, angry that they had been separated. And the thought went through his mind, _Had it been deliberate?_ Of course the answer was Yes, though Rishid didn't realize it.

Ishizu gasped, taking note that their younger brother wasn't there. "Rishid, what happened to him!" she cried in alarm. Now the events surrounding the Talisman were all but forgotten. Marik's well-being was now top priority in Ishizu's mind.

Before Rishid could explain about the floor opening up, an angry yell from Colchis brought the two siblings back to attention. Sapphire was still hovering in the air, a protective barrier neutralizing the attacks from the palace guards, and from Fafnir and Colchis when they attempted to get her themselves. But it was no use. The rightful queen of Juno had had enough. And now, no matter how her enemies tried, they could not get through to her or up to the Talisman. When she spoke again, it was with a commanding voice, different from the calm, quiet tones she had used previously.

"Geates' Talisman has been revived again!" she declared, raising her hands up to the ceiling. "And this time it shall be used for its original purpose—to fight evil, instead of encouraging it! For too long I have stood by, too afraid to attempt reclaiming the kingdom that is rightfully mine. That ends now!" The Talisman, as if responding to her, slowly floated down around her neck.

Fafnir let out a low curse. It was all over now. The Talisman, when specially summoned in such a way, only allowed the summoner to use it. His plans were foiled. But that didn't mean he would go down without a fight. And his Red Zealot was still somewhere in the palace, fighting that troublesome teenager. Fafnir wasn't going to give up yet. There was still a way. . . .

And Adelpha saw this. "Men, prepare to fight!" she yelled, looking around and only finding the half of her army who had come with Rishid and Marik. Those that had been with her and Ishizu were probably still on the other floor, wondering what on earth had just happened. She prayed that they would arrive soon.

Rishid laid a hand on Ishizu's shoulder protectively. This was most likely going to be a great and terrible battle, even with the Talisman now formed. They weren't out of the woods yet. And there was still Marik to worry about.

Kade glared at Yami Marik as he and Marik both got up. "You were the mean man in the village!" he accused, pointing a little forefinger at the wildly grinning creature in front of him. "And you took my mommy, didn't you!" Tears stubbornly came to his eyes. He remembered all too well seeing Yami Marik hurting and killing the villagers yesterday. The horrible memories were ingrained in his mind, but he ignored them as much as he could, especially with Marik there and his mother to find.

Marik started to step out in front of the little boy. He knew his Yami had no mercy at all and wouldn't even spare a child from his wrath. But as he moved forward, the monster he had created shoved him back again. "Let the boy speak, Hikari," Yami Marik sneered. "He's foolish, confronting me, but it amuses me greatly."

Marik growled in reply. "We both know you wouldn't hesitate to hurt him," he retorted, reaching for the Rod hooked in his belt.

Yami Marik cackled in his infamous way. "You're right, of course, but right now I'm more interested in killing you." From a nearby suit of armor he took hold of a vicious weapon and brought it to point at Marik with lightning speed. "We'll do battle on the roof. I took the liberty of unlocking the door leading up there."

Kade cried out in horror, seeing his beloved adopted father under attack. "No!" he screamed. "Don't hurt Mr. Marik! I won't let you!" He ran forward, intending to beat his little fists into Yami Marik's stomach, but Marik managed to duck under the spear and grab the child in time. They rolled across the floor, coming to a halt several feet away from where Yami Marik still stood, watching with interest.

Marik uncurled himself and knelt beside Kade, who was already up and staring at his dear friend with the tears freely flowing from his eyes. He laid his hands on the child's shoulders, touched as he looked into the heartbroken orbs. Kade was aware that something was going very wrong and it wrenched Marik's own heart to not be able to assure him completely that everything would be alright. He knew his Yami wouldn't give up until he, Marik, was dead. "Kade," he said softly, "I need you to do something for me."

The small boy sniffled, wiping his eyes. "W-what's that, Mr. Marik?" he asked, obviously willing to please.

Marik smiled tenderly. "Go find Rishid and the others," he instructed. He did not want Kade to witness the fight. And since as far as he knew Kade wasn't wanted by any of their enemies, maybe he would be safe enough traveling through the palace. At any rate, Marik felt it was preferable over him watching the battle between him and his Yami. That was something no child should have to watch. Kade had seen enough bloodshed in his short life already. And there would be much in this battle, Marik was certain.

Kade bit his lip, not wanting to leave Marik but wanting to do as asked. "Will you come back and find us too?" he demanded.

Marik smiled sadly, ruffling the child's hair. He had promised Ishizu that they would meet again, though he had known that not all promises could be kept. But he would do his best to ensure that that one would be. "Yes," he said finally. "Of course!"

Kade sniffled again, flying into Marik's arms and hugging him tightly around the neck. "You've gotta really do it," he ordered, the tears continuing to fall.

Marik hugged back firmly. "I will," he said softly.

They were both startled by the spear flying out at them. It crashed into the floor mere inches away, followed by an annoyed growl from Yami Marik. "Let him go now, Hikari," the deep voice hissed, "unless you want to run the risk of him being hit."

Marik's eyes narrowed in rage. "You'd be sprawled on the floor, bleeding, before you could attempt it," he threatened, standing up reluctantly and setting Kade down on his feet. He hated leaving the boy, but that was exactly what he had to do now.

"Remember, you promised, Mr. Marik!" Kade said desperately, tugging on the teen's hand. He couldn't lose Marik.

"Don't worry," Marik told him. "I'll be back. Now go find the others, quickly!" Out of the corner of his eye he could see his Yami coming closer. Panic was rising within him. Kade had to get out of here!

And the child ran, not looking back, though he wanted to. Marik had promised him now. He couldn't break the promise. And Kade had made a promise of his own. He would do exactly as Marik wanted and then Marik would be proud of him when he did come back. He fled around the nearest corner.

Yami Marik laughed, pulling the spear out of the floor. "Touching," he said sarcastically, gripping Marik's shoulder tightly. Without warning they were both on the roof. He had used his teleportation powers to send them there.

Marik looked around, frowning. "I should have known you'd do something like that," he muttered, gripping the Rod tighter.

Yami Marik sneered, shoving him forward. "Let our mortal combat begin," he pronounced, lunging with the spear without even giving Marik time to recover. The teenager barely managed to dodge, rolling away as the weapon slammed into the roof.

And so, as the last rays of the sun shone upon them, their battle commenced. Time could not say how long it lasted, but Marik became quite weary after it had been going on for a good while. His Yami, on the other hand, never seemed to tire. While Marik chose to blast with the Rod, knowing that the dagger wouldn't do much good unless he got extremely close, Yami Marik attacked continually with the spear, sometimes wounding the boy. At one point he jabbed the blunt end into Marik's stomach harshly. The teen fell back, doubling over in pain. Then Yami Marik clubbed him again, on the shoulders, making him fall to the floor of the roof. Both of their weapons fell as well.

Yami Marik circled around his prey, his eyes glimmering maliciously. "It's almost over, you know," he sneered, picking up the fallen Millennium Rod and unsheathing the dagger. This was the weapon he had really wanted all along. "It's a shame, really. Once you're dead, I can't have any more fun with you." He watched as Marik gasped for breath, unsteadily getting to his feet and glaring at the monstrosity he had once created.

Wordlessly the boy picked up the fallen spear as his new weapon, his eyes cold. "Let's finish this," he growled. "I'm not dead yet."

"But you soon will be," the Darkness retorted, lunging with the Rod. Marik sidestepped him swiftly, managing to stab into his arm with the spear. It was the first time he had actually been able to wound his enemy during the fight. He had been able to land some good blasts with the Rod, but those hadn't seemed to faze the creature at all.

Marik didn't know what he was expecting to see now, but an inky black blood was certainly not it. His eyes widened in stunned shock as he pulled the weapon away, staring at the sticky substance on the blade. It looked so strange, Marik just wasn't sure what to make of it.

And the wound hadn't seemed to affect his Yami at all. He grinned malevolently, especially when he saw Marik's utter bewilderment. "You don't understand, do you?" he hissed. "I'm not mortal. This body I have isn't like yours at all. I created it entirely from the darkness in the world. My blood isn't like a mortal's." He advanced on Marik with the Rod again, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks. "But now if I spilled your blood, we know what it would look like, don't we? It would be a bright red, just like every other mortal fool's. Or maybe it would be white, to be the opposite of the black blood I possess." He seemed to find this thought quite entertaining and as Marik clanged the spear against the Rod's dagger to protect himself, Yami Marik laughed.

"I'm not a pure, perfect person," Marik growled. "No one on earth is. But even the most vile person is better than you." He advanced again, almost seeming to catch the being off guard. "Do you want to know why?" The sound of metal on metal screeched as each entity fighting struggled to keep from being wounded.

"I really don't care," Yami Marik retorted. "Not only am I the darkness, I like it." His eyes went bloodshot with madness as he abruptly struck out, knocking Marik back down to the roof and causing him to drop the spear. "I should really thank you for giving me life." He picked up the weapon and advanced quickly, tickling the boy's chest with the tip. "And I will thank you by taking yours!"

But Marik wasn't ready to give up yet. He barely dodged just as his Yami jabbed the spear into the roof again, but then the boy immediately whirled around and grabbed the weapon up again. "It's because even the most horrible person still has goodness," he uttered low, referring to the statement he had made a moment before. He lunged at his Yami, managing to catch him by surprise and stab him directly in the chest. "No mortal is all good . . . but there's also not one that's all bad. If only the same could be said of you." The creature shouted in pain as the weapon pierced his flesh, to Marik's astonishment, and then doubled over, black blood oozing through his fingers. Marik took a step back, watching, his eyes narrowed. He knew it could just be a trick.

Yami Marik staggered forward, the Millennium Rod still in his hand. When he got nearer to Marik he began to attempt to circle him, still keeping one hand clamped firmly over his wound. "Do you remember what I told you . . . near the end of Battle City?" he asked in a low tone. "It was during my duel with the Pharaoh, while you and young Yugi were fading into the shadows."

Marik tried to step away from him, getting an uncomfortable feeling. He clutched the spear tightly in his hands, on the defense, ready to attack again if necessary. His Yami was full of crafty tricks and plots. The being would stop at nothing to hurt Marik, whom he hated. But more so, Marik realized, Yami Marik wanted to hurt Rishid. He wanted to emotionally and mentally break the man down. And he knew that the perfect way to do that was to kill the brother Rishid adored.

"It still stands." Yami Marik straightened up in a split-second, having, indeed, been putting on an act. Mortal weapons couldn't hurt him. He lunged before Marik could do a thing, plunging the Millennium Rod's dagger into the boy's back. Red blood splattered in all directions and Marik gasped in agony, his lavender eyes widening. The spear fell from his grasp, falling over the edge and into the waters churning far below. He started to fall forward as well, losing his balance from the sudden shock and the pain that was coming over him. Ishizu had been right. Her premonition was so correct. . . . Marik was certain he was going to die. He wouldn't be able to keep any of the promises he had made.

And his Yami's voice echoed all around them both. "I'LL SEND YOU STRAIGHT TO HELL!" The foul entity gave a final shove with the dagger before then promptly yanking it back. He watched with satisfaction as Marik tumbled over the side. Finally, the foolish boy would be dead. And Rishid's spirit would be crushed.

But a shaking tan-skinned hand reached up, catching the edge of the wall. Marik was not going to go down this way, defeated again by this being! If this was the end, then Marik wanted to make it count. He wouldn't allow Yami Marik to continue his reign of destruction here. It was over. "Remember what I told you?" he rasped, looking up with fire in his lavender eyes as he grabbed a handful of Yami Marik's cape. The creature froze, staring with a twisted expression of hatred and anger. "It still stands too." Marik felt dizziness coming over him from the loss of blood. The wound had been deep. If it didn't kill him, the fall into the water surely would. His grip on the wall failed completely and he wound up only gripping the fabric of his Yami's cape. "I'm taking you with me."

They both fell.


	12. Tragic End

The battle in the dungeon was just getting underway when an ear-piercing scream rent the air. Everyone, even Fafnir and Colchis, froze at the sound. Ishizu went pale, turning from where she was slapping a rowdy and raucous member of Fafnir's army to look at Rishid in horror. He looked back, the same knowledge passing between them—it was Marik screaming. He was in pain.

Sapphire looked alarmed. "What was that?" she wanted to know. Still she was hovering in the air, shielded from attacks, and powering up the Talisman to its full strength. She recognized a tortured cry when she heard one. Someone was in agony.

Fafnir started to smirk, looking wickedly triumphant. "My Red Zealot hasn't failed me yet," he remarked. "It sounds like he's killed another poor soul."

Rishid clenched his fists tightly. "No," he snarled. Unbidden came a horrible, haunting image to his mind of Marik laying dead on the marble floor, bleeding profusely while his Yami stood over him, cruelly grinning. _He couldn't let it become the truth!_ Marik was his whole heart and soul. The boy would not perish! Without another word the man ran for a door at the back of the room, grabbing two enemy soldiers and knocking their heads together when they blocked his way. Nothing would keep him from the one he recognized as his brother.

"Go, Rishid," Ishizu whispered, wanting more than anything for him to leave this scene. Marik needed his elder brother. Rishid had to get to him now, while there was still hope for his life! Ishizu couldn't forget her premonition. She wanted to follow after Rishid now and get to Marik, and she turned to do so—but Colchis grabbed her arm before she could. His eyes gleamed evilly as he tried to get her in a headlock.

"Now look, Isis," he hissed in her ear, "look what you've done to your siblings. If you had only told me the truths about your visions, maybe this wouldn't be happening. Maybe Marik wouldn't be dying." His grip tightened while she struggled to get away. _Such a beautiful woman,_ he thought in his malicious way. _Such delicate skin and hair of silk. . . ._

Ishizu stamped down on his foot. She only felt loathing and hatred for this man who had kept her prisoner, lying and deceiving and secretly wanting her for his own. "Release me!" she demanded as the battle resumed around them.

Colchis started to slowly choke her. "But don't you want to know the truth?" he retorted. "Fafnir and I both know that you, 'Lord Odion,' and the blonde teenager are siblings. The one Fafnir calls the Red Zealot told us all about the Ishtar family. We found him traveling through this land, creating his infamous destruction and devastation. He was the perfect key in our dark plan." As he spoke, he tried to find the way to unhook the Millennium Tauk from Ishizu's neck, in addition to concentrating on not being distracted by the woman's futile attempts to free herself.

"And what has been your 'dark plan'?" Ishizu spat out coldly, wondering why he was telling her. Was it a way to taunt her? Or did he have some other sinister reasoning behind it? Slowly she tried to work herself free, but she soon became rattled when a soldier's body flew overhead, crashing against the opposite wall. Then another crashed into Colchis from behind, causing him to lose his grip on the lovely Egyptian woman. Immediately she pushed him away, running free and looking about for Adelpha. Somewhere in all the confusion she had lost the rebel leader. And though she still wanted to know what Colchis and Fafnir had been plotting, now was not the time to learn.

Sapphire looked down at her, all the while gathering her magic for a water attack. "Go," she instructed. "Go to your family before it's too late, Ishizu Ishtar. I couldn't save my husband. I don't want the same fate to befall your brothers." She gave no explanation as to how she knew Ishizu's name, but the truth was that the Talisman had revealed it to her. Now she knew the identity of all who had ever touched even one of the pieces. And she knew Ishizu was a friend.

Ishizu gazed at this noble woman. If circumstances were different, she would have liked to have spoken with her more. As it was, she knew she had to go. Marik's scream had been so pitiful! Rishid might need assistance with finding and helping him. Ishizu hated leaving the others in their battle, but she knew she wouldn't be much help in combat. Surely with the Talisman activated, good would be victorious here. But did Fafnir have another plan? Ishizu was almost certain of it. He had sounded so satisfied when he had made his dark comment about Yami Marik killing someone else—a someone else who most likely was Marik. But she couldn't believe he was dead! _No!_

"Go!" Sapphire cried, releasing a huge wave at a large group of soldiers led by Colchis.

Ishizu turned and fled, running toward the door Rishid had used. As she approached, Fafnir lunged at her, bejeweled sword in hand. He would have her dead! She and her brothers had not helped his plans move along, as Yami Marik had obviously conned him into believing. Now they would all die and Fafnir would start over, without his brother Colchis around to screw things up. He would have the throne and the Talisman yet.

With lightning speed Adelpha sprang to Ishizu's defense, crashing her sword against Fafnir's. "Don't touch her," she hissed coldly. "Let her go to her family before there's no hope!" She had lost Paul yesterday and had almost gone mad. And she would see to it that Ishizu wasn't too late for Marik and Rishid.

Ishizu turned back in stunned surprise, taking in the scene and realizing what had been about to happen to her. "Adelpha," she breathed. She now owed her life to this rebel.

Adelpha gritted her teeth, looking over briefly. "I don't want you to suffer as I'm suffering!" she yelled. "Don't hang around here. Go, Ishizu. I'll be fine!" Her sword and Fafnir's screeched as they began to disengage from each other.

Ishizu nodded. "Thank you," she said quietly, hurrying out. _Please,_ she cried silently, _be well, my brothers!_

She didn't see the ensuing battle she was leaving behind. She didn't see Adelpha wounding Fafnir deeply in the shoulder, nor Fafnir stumbling but then stabbing Adelpha harshly in the chest.

The woman fell to her knees, her life flashing in front of her eyes. She saw the two most painful events of her life—her mother's death and then Paul's. She remembered her determination to save Juno and restore it to the free country her mother had loved. Juno would be saved now, wouldn't it? Sapphire had called the Talisman forth and was using it.

What about the Ishtars? Would they be saved? Would that family be able to continue journeying through life together? She looked in the direction Ishizu had gone, praying it wasn't too late. Ishizu loved her brothers so much and they both loved her in return. Adelpha had seen that plainly. If Ishizu lost her brothers, she would feel as alone as Adelpha did now.

Then she saw Fafnir struggling to go to the door. He was still determined to find Ishizu. And Adelpha wouldn't let that happen. As her breathing became labored, she used every ounce of her strength to raise her sword. Somewhere she heard Paul calling to her, encouraging her, telling her not to give up. Paul hated violence, but he knew that sometimes it was necessary in times of tyranny, to bring about its destruction. That was why he had helped her with her rebels.

With a feeble war cry Adelpha plunged the weapon into Fafnir's back and then watched him sink down silently in an eerie way, a shocked expression gracing his features. Then Adelpha collapsed as well. It was over for them both.

* * *

Rishid made it to the roof just as Marik and his Yami hit the water far below. The man went pale as he heard the splash, seeing the wounded teen disappear under the surface. "NO!" The scream tore from his lips as he ran forward, clutching at the edge of the wall. His eyes scanned the water, watching in horror as blood began turning the aqueous surface to a haunting red. Marik was down there, injured—and not returning to the top. He could swim—somehow Rishid knew this—but now he was too hurt to do so. He would drown.

But no! No, he wouldn't. Rishid would never let that happen. He would save his brother. He had vowed to always protect him. And so he jumped off the roof, plunging into the frigid ocean. As he went under, he strained to see any sign of the boy he loved. The water was clear for the most part, save for the blood tainting it crimson. Sickened, Rishid swam forward, holding his breath.

Then he saw the sight. Marik was below him, near the bottom, struggling weakly against his Yami. The madman was attempting to choke him to death, his fingers wrapped wickedly around Marik's neck and pressing the choker into his flesh. Marik went limp just as Rishid arrived.

In anger the protective brother punched Yami Marik, causing his grip on Marik to be loosed. Rishid then snatched the boy into his arms, holding him close and heading for the surface. Yami Marik sneered viciously before vanishing. Marik was barely alive, if that. The Darkness had set up this entire plan just to torment the Ishtars. And it was working.

* * *

Rishid broke the surface, gasping for breath. He held Marik's body carefully, feeling blood running over his fingers from the deep wound in the teen's back. Water poured out of his mouth when Rishid gently opened it. His skin was a ghostly pale color and felt icy to the touch. At first Marik made no voluntary moves, worrying Rishid greatly, but then he choked, coughing up more water and shuddering.

"Rishid," he whispered, grabbing the man's clothes. "You came. . . ." He smiled, though he felt the pain shooting through him. The wound, coupled with the near-drowning and strangling, was fatal. He knew he was dying. Right now he was barely conscious. Practically the only thing he understood was that Rishid was there. He would not die alone.

"Brother . . . of course I have come," Rishid cried, panicked as he felt Marik's body grow heavier. He realized Marik was dying, most likely from loss of blood, but he wouldn't accept it. There had to be a way to save him! If he could just get Marik to the shore, he might be able to find a doctor who could do something. . . .

Marik looked up at him blearily. "I was so worried when . . . you didn't answer. . . ." He snuggled closer to his brother, calmed by the sound of his heart beating. "Are Ishizu and Kade safe?"

Rishid swallowed hard. He knew Ishizu was alright—at least, she had been when he'd left. And as for Kade, Rishid was certain he'd seen the child when he was running frantically for the roof, but he'd been far too panicked to stop and talk to him. He checked Marik's pulse, seeing with alarm that it was slowing. "They're safe, my brother," he reassured Marik, his voice cracking. _What was he going to do? How could he stop the inevitable?_

Marik relaxed. "It's so good to hear you call me that, Rishid," he said softly, closing his eyes again. "It makes me feel like . . . like you do remember me again." He felt Rishid gently pressing a cloth against his back, trying to stop the bleeding. It seemed fruitless, but Marik didn't protest. He knew Rishid understood that he was dying. But neither of them really wanted to accept that.

Now he looked up again, sadly. "I won't be able to keep the promises I made to Ishizu and Kade," he realized. "I'm dying, Rishid." He spoke the words both dreaded to say. He hadn't thought it would end this way, not at the beginning of this adventure, but when he had known he would have to fight his Yami, the suspicions arose that he might not live through it. Now his Yami was winning. Marik felt heartsick.

"No!" Rishid protested, his hands shaking as he held the form of his younger brother. "You are not dying! Do you hear me, Marik! I will not let you die!" If Marik perished, Rishid's life would have no meaning. Marik _was_ Rishid's life. Frantically he looked for the nearest way to shore. They had to get back there. Ishizu would be waiting for them. They had to return to their sister.

Marik's voice interrupted his search. "I'm sorry," he choked out, tears falling from the lavender lilac eyes—the same eyes that Rishid had been drawn to when Marik had first arrived. They had been the window to the boy's soul—and to Rishid's. It was largely in part from seeing those eyes that Rishid had come to believe Marik was telling him the truth about everything. "We can't kid ourselves, Rishid." He became uneasy as his vision started to go out of focus. Immediately he clutched Rishid tighter. He didn't want to slip off into the water again. But he knew Rishid wouldn't let him. Rishid would protect him.

Rishid kept his arms around the teen protectively, laying a hand in his blonde hair. "You came into my life such a short time ago," he said quietly, shutting his eyes as he couldn't bear to face this reality. "You reminded me of who I am and what I fight for. And while I may not remember you, I know that everything you told me is the truth. I know you are my brother." Again and again in his mind he was suffering with seeing the cruel, thoughtless things he had done to Marik those first couple of days. He couldn't bear that, either. "That is why. . . ." Rishid swallowed the lump in his throat, but it only returned instantly. "That is why I cannot lose you. If I lose you, Marik, I lose my life."

Marik hugged his brother as tightly as he could manage. "But you have to keep living, Rishid," he whispered. "There's Ishizu. . . . She'll be so sad. . . . And Kade, too. . . . But he'll have his mother. . . ." Marik trailed off, realizing something. "Was she found, Rishid?" he asked urgently. To his mind came Kade's worried blue eyes and his innocent voice, pleading for Marik to help him find her. He had tried to keep his promise. Now, perhaps, he was dying for it.

"Yes," Rishid managed to reply. "She was." He felt tears coming to his eyes. What was this? He hadn't cried . . . not for ages. But now, suddenly, he couldn't stop the crystalline drops from falling. His heart was shattering a million and one times, into twice that many pieces. He was going to lose Marik.

This only made Marik cry as well. The last thing he wanted to do was die. "Tell them I'm sorry," he whispered. "I tried. . . ." Now his eyes were focused on a point just beyond Rishid. It seemed to him that he saw a light. He gazed at it with a certain awe and curiousness, though he continued to hug Rishid close. _Is it Mother?_ he found himself wondering. _Is she here to take me away?_ He bit his lip.

"Do you see the light, Rishid?" he asked.

Rishid glanced around, feeling the horror grow steadily worse. There was no light. But Marik was seeing one. His brother was truly going to leave him. And how would he tell Ishizu and young Kade? Marik was right—they were going to be so crushed, as Rishid was. For days Rishid had been thinking and hoping that they would all return to the home Marik kept insisting they had. He wanted to go there and live a normal life peacefully with his siblings. And Marik had longed for it so much. But now he was going to die here, in this forsaken land. They would never be able to all return home now. "No," he said finally. "Marik, I don't see a light. . . ." His voice completely broke, along with his heart once more.

Marik snuggled closer to Rishid. "I feel warm, Rishid," he said softly, feeling oblivion claiming him. "So warm . . . and loved. . . ." He slumped against his elder brother, but not before whispering something softly in the Egyptian tongue that Rishid still didn't remember.

Rishid's blood went completely chill. He stared down at the boy's body, seeing the closed eyes and the soft blonde bangs falling over them. Blood was soaking through the cloth Rishid had pressed against the stab wound. The limp arms were still wrapped around Rishid's waist, but he felt their grip loosening. And to him this said most certainly that his brother had just passed on. Sure enough, when he checked the vitals signs, there were none. No breath, no heartbeat, no pulse. Nothing.

What was most horrifying of all to Rishid, though, was the sudden slam of memories that overwhelmed him all at once. He saw an infant Marik, cooing and giggling and adoring his elder siblings. He saw how he had slowly warmed up to the boy, whom he had initially despised because of their mother dying while giving birth to him, and how he had strived so hard to protect him always. Images of the cobra biting Marik and of Mr. Ishtar beating Rishid for the accident came next, including how Rishid had become incensed at Marik for gaining the acceptance that Rishid was starved for. And he saw glazed eyes opening, trying to focus on him. _"I'm sorry, big brother."_ He heard the sweet, innocent voice echoing all around him.

Rishid didn't know it, but he was completely pale now. He grasped the limp body tightly, as if letting go meant losing the one he couldn't lose. But he had lost him. He remembered him now, that he was dead. And he now knew what Marik had spoken in Egyptian just before he died. He had said, "I love you, my brother."

* * *

Several minutes later Rishid knelt on the grassy bank next to Marik's still form. Gently he smoothed the bangs away from the boy's forehead and then pressed on his chest. He hated doing that, knowing it could irritate the wound on his back more, but if his brother still had water from the ocean within him, Rishid had to get it out. Marik jerked, more water spilling from his mouth, but then he lay quiet once more. Though Rishid tried for several more minutes and was able to remove the rest of the water, he was never able to accomplish more than that. Marik could not revive.

Finally he gathered his brother into his arms again, rocking back and forth slowly and turning his gaze to the skies, splashed with colors as the sun set. "Please," he said in a pained voice, offering his heartfelt prayer, "trade my life for his. Marik deserves to live. He's only a boy! He has his entire life ahead of him. And I. . . ." He trailed off, looking down at the pale face once more. Marik looked only somewhat at peace. Tears were still on his cheeks. "I," Rishid managed to continue now, "would find my life well fulfilled if only I knew that Marik would have the chance to live. He wanted to live! Please . . . do not rob him of that chance!" He held the boy closer, longing to feel him reaching out to hug him again. "Save him!" he begged now. "Save my brother. Please!" But Marik did not revive and Rishid was left to his own thoughts as he cradled the body to his heart.

It was in this heartbroken state that Ishizu found him a few moments later. She approached slowly at first, then quickened her pace, fearing the worst. "Rishid?" she breathed in alarm, kneeling down beside him. She took in the sight of her brothers' drenched forms and Marik's stillness and felt her heart being squeezed. She could piece together what had happened without even asking. Marik was either serious hurt or he might be . . .

"Dead," Rishid choked out, looking up at her with tortured eyes. "He is dead and only now do I remember him! Only now!" Did Ishizu remember too? In Juno, she had always trusted Marik more and had been more accepting of him than Rishid had been. How could Rishid ever forgive himself now? How could he possibly? He loved Marik more than anything else, but he had forgotten him here and had turned cold and harsh. He had said so many things he wished he could take back now. But he would carry it all with him now until he died. _Oh!_ How he would love to just die now and go be with the boy! But he knew he could not. There was still Ishizu to think of. And Marik wouldn't want him to kill himself. But Rishid loathed himself now. How was he going to bear living knowing that he had hurt his prized brother so deeply during his final days?_ How?_

Ishizu felt as if her heart was stopping. _No! No, Marik couldn't be dead!_ Indeed, she did remember him now—and Rishid as well. When she gazed into the golden orbs she could see all of what her elder brother was currently feeling. And she felt her heart shatter for both of those poor souls. Marik had promised her that they would meet again, but he had known there was a chance this would happen and that he wouldn't get to keep the promise—not until Ishizu and Rishid both died as well and met him in Heaven. Ishizu had prayed so hard that this would not come to pass. She had warned her brothers of her premonition. She had hoped that they could be more cautious and stop any possible deaths from happening. But maybe this had been destined to happen. Maybe there was nothing at all that could have stopped it.

For now, Ishizu could only throw her arms around Rishid and hug him tightly, Marik's body in between them. She didn't ask how it had happened or why they were both drenched. That didn't matter right now. All that mattered was that their family had been ripped apart once again. "My brothers," she whispered, tears slipping from her blue eyes and memories, good and bad, swirling through her mind. "My precious, dear brothers. . . ."

_

* * *

_

Twilight fell upon the land of Juno. The word went out that the true enemies of the land had been defeated and that the rightful queen was still alive and had come forth again. Many of those in the land were stunned at the news of Fafnir's involvement with the carnage and destruction. Others, mostly those who had been in touch with Adelpha and her rebels, had suspected or knew it all along. Still others refused to believe this was true. Sapphire was saddened by this, though she had been certain that there would be some citizens who were still loyal to Fafnir, even after everything. They might cause trouble in the future, but she would worry about that if and when it happened. There were more pressing matters at the moment.

Word also went out that many noble lives had been lost in the fight and that there would be a memorial service for them all that evening. Once the battle was over, so many of Adelpha's warriors had lain dead, as well as Adelpha herself. Sapphire had seen how the other woman had perished. She had spoken to her right before the brave soldier had breathed her last. _"I didn't want Ishizu to suffer,"_ Adelpha had told Sapphire as her eyes glassed over. _"There's no greater pain than . . . to lose someone you love."_ Then her eyes had cleared once more and she had cried out with a happy voice, _"Paul! Mother!"_ and then had gone still.

Sapphire told all of this in private to Ishizu, offering her sympathies for her own loss. "Adelpha and I . . . we both understand your pain," she said softly, laying a hand on the Egyptian woman's shoulder. "But your brother's sacrifice will not be forgotten. He will be hailed as a hero in Juno, just as all who have fought for right." Her Talisman glistened as it hung around her neck. It would remain with her, now, never to be separated into its three gems again. Later it would pass on to Kade. Sapphire had healed Marik's wound with the Talisman's power, even though she knew it wouldn't do any good. She could not bring back a spirit from the afterlife. He was still dead. But Rishid had wanted it done nevertheless. It haunted him, feeling the injury in the boy's back when he held him.

Ishizu swallowed hard. Now that it was all over, now that Juno had been saved, Shadi had reappeared to her and Rishid. They no longer had to remain, he had said, and they could come home to Domino City if they wished. There was a ship in the harbor that would take them. And so that was what they planned to do. They would take Marik's body back with them and give him a proper burial in the city cemetery. And then . . . then. . . . Ishizu didn't know what would happen then. Shadi's words upon appearing had pierced her very soul. _"Marik's journey is ended,"_ he had said solemnly, looking from one to the other. Rishid had only held the still form closer. He hadn't let Marik out of his sight since the tragedy. Right now he was out on the balcony of the palace, still cradling him and waiting for Ishizu.

"I'm so sorry," Sapphire spoke again, guilt sweeping over her. "If I'd only acted sooner, maybe none of this would have happened at all. I shouldn't have ignored my queenly duties." She had explained to Ishizu all of what had taken place in her and Kade's lives and how they had been hiding in the village after Fafnir's treachery. He had been stalling for time by recruiting the various kings he had, all the while searching for the three gems that would make up the Talisman. He had wanted that before claiming the throne as his own. But in his quest he had only retrieved one gem, the one that Colchis, his brother, had claimed. Ishizu had found the second right before Colchis would have taken it as well, though it hadn't been him entering the treasury. That person's identity was still unknown. Adelpha had possessed the third. Fafnir had known it had been found, but he didn't know how to retrieve it—until Yami Marik had approached him and they had made their deal of death. He would massacre the villages, looking for the third pendant in every house and on every person. Since he enjoyed destruction, he was quite agreeable. And after abducting Ishizu and Rishid he had set things up with Fafnir so that they would be in the palace, unbeknownst to each other and not remembering each other anyway if they met up. The whole plan would enable Yami Marik to bring grief upon the family he hated most—and to help Fafnir achieve his goals at the same time.

Ishizu shook her head slowly, turning to face the tortured woman before her. Sapphire would carry this burden always with her, as Rishid would forever carry the knowledge of how he had treated Marik during the first part of their stay in Juno. "You cannot be blamed," Ishizu said softly. "You only wished to protect the young child you love, for you knew he could be killed if Fafnir found you both again." She turned to look out the elegant window at the night sky and at the candles for peace that the people were lighting below. "This was all a horrible tragedy, brought about by wicked hearts. We must rise above their hatred and cruelty. Those who have perished would want that." Her voice choked. "Marik . . . would want that."

Sapphire nodded sadly, knowing Ishizu was right. But that didn't change the pain she still felt. Kade didn't even know of his friend's fate yet. She had put him to bed after the battle ended and they had found each other once more. He was awake now, though, and would come looking for news of Marik. Sapphire closed her eyes, tears emerging from them as she thought of how stricken he would be when he learned the truth. He had such a tender heart, one that broke when he learned of sadness and agony and death. She couldn't forget his heartbroken expression when he realized his father was not coming back. How could she bear to put him through that again?

She looked back to Ishizu. "It's time for the service," she said quietly, "but I know you and Rishid wanted to slip away on the ship before it took place."

Ishizu glanced out at the balcony, where Rishid was standing and coming slowly over to the doors, Marik still in his arms. "Yes," she responded. Though she did want to pay her respects to Adelpha, especially since she had sacrificed herself for Ishizu, she felt that Adelpha would want her and Rishid to get away as soon as they could. At least the two elder siblings still had each other. That was such an immense blessing. Neither one would have to go on alone, as Adelpha had struggled to go on without Paul. Perhaps she and Rishid would be able to give strength to each other to survive.

Rishid entered, pain evident on his face. "Please," he agreed, overhearing the conversation, "let us just leave." His and Marik's clothes were dry now and he had the boy wrapped tenderly within the folds of his cloak. _He looks so calm, as if he is only sleeping,_ Rishid thought sadly to himself, knowing the harsh truth. Marik was not asleep. He had had enough of Juno for now. He only wanted to get away, even though he knew it would be impossible to run from this truth. Always he would carry it and the memories with him.

Sapphire nodded, leading them to a back exit of the palace. It would open out into the harbors. "I wish," she said softly, "that we wouldn't have to part on such tragic terms." Juno had always been such a beautiful, peaceful land—until greed and revenge had entered the hearts of some and brought about wars and tragedies. This tragedy she, also, would always carry. She still felt partially responsible. But she knew there really wouldn't have been anything else she could have done. She _had_ searched for the pieces of the Talisman in the hopes of putting it back together, but as fate had had it, she had not found them. Perhaps everything had been meant to happen the way it had, even though it seemed so horrible.

Ishizu took a deep breath. "As do we," she replied, just as softly.

_

* * *

_

Ishizu and Rishid had just gotten settled on the ship's deck when a small figure came running forward from the direction of the palace, screaming Marik's name. Both elder Ishtar siblings froze with horror. It was Kade, coming for his treasured friend. They had hoped so badly to get away without him knowing. None of them wanted him to have to see Marik so still and cold, unable to speak to him. But there was nothing they could do now. Sapphire was also gazing with alarm, her blue eyes widening. She had known that this might happen, though she had prayed it would not.

"Kade," she said softly, but she was immediately cut off by the child's anguished cry as he ran up the steps onto the ship.

"Mr. Marik! Mr. Marik!" Kade flung himself at Marik's body as Rishid held the form on his lap. The child sobbed, hugging Marik tightly and burying his face into his lavender shirt. "You promised! _You promised!_ _Why didn't you come find us, like you said you would! Why!_" He shook the boy roughly with trembling four-year-old hands, wanting him to answer. But he received no reply. In physical form, Marik could take no notice of the words or the shaking.

"Kade," Ishizu said quietly, laying her hands on his shoulders. She bit her lip, her heart breaking once more. She could not control the tears that flowed from her eyes. It all seemed so abominably haunting, for young Kade to have to come and see Marik here . . . this way. . . . It reminded her of when she'd seen her mother laying dead. She had been exactly Kade's age. Rishid had tried to comfort and explain to her, but her young mind had not been able to grasp any of it. Their mother shouldn't have had to die, just as Marik shouldn't have had to. "We are so sorry, Kade. . . . Marik . . . he . . . he was not able to make it." The words came out steadily, even though Ishizu didn't feel the least bit steady at the moment.

Kade looked up at her, tears streaming from his own eyes. "_But he promised!_" he wailed. "_He should've kept his promise!_" Part of him knew Marik was dead—that he wouldn't be coming back ever again—but the other part refused to accept it. Marik was going to open his eyes in a minute. He had to!

"Marik was sorry as well," Rishid said then, remembering Marik's final words to him. "He wanted me to tell you and Ishizu that." But then Rishid retreated within himself, unable to say more. He was broken.

Sapphire walked over slowly, gently taking her child's small hand. "Come, Kade," she whispered, trying to keep her voice calm. "They have to leave now. We have to say goodbye." She could hardly bear this. The pain of a mother seeing her child in agony is rarely, if ever, equaled. And she had seen Kade like this before. But it wasn't any easier this time. If anything, it was only harder.

Kade looked back down at Marik, seeming to be pondering over things in his young mind. At last he hugged the teenager tightly around the neck, feeling the blonde hair tickling his face, and whispered in Marik's ear. "I know you're gonna come back someday." He wouldn't believe Marik was gone. How could he be, when he had promised? No, Marik was going to return. He'd find Kade, just as he said he would. "You'll come back, Mr. Marik!" Kade pulled away, sniffling, and ran to his mother's side, hugging her now. No one knew of what he had whispered, unless, perhaps, the one he had whispered it to did.


	13. Epilogue

**Notes: Wow! I can't believe it's done. I've been working on it all year! Thanks to everyone who's reviewed. Be looking for the sequel, Candy Clouds, coming soon!**

* * *

The battered, broken-down ship was tossed gently upon the ocean waves as it headed back toward the dimension familiar to Rishid and Ishizu, where Juno would be left far behind in their minds and memories. The mast creaked loudly above the two lone figures on the weathered deck, the ropes and sails it supported casting dark shadows across the mourners as they both bent over the stiff, cold body of their younger brother. Truly, he had come to "journey's end," but not in the way they had hoped and prayed for.

Rishid took the young form into his arms again, treasuring the blonde hair and naturally tanned skin. He was memorizing every soft lock on the boy's head, each weary, bloodied mark in his flesh, and every tired line in the pale face. Marik was dead. And to Rishid's horror, forebodings from only days before were coming back to him now.

_You will regret what you said,_ disembodied voices had whispered to him after every harsh comment he had made to this precious, cherished brother of his over the past days. _You will regret what you did. Someday, very soon, you will regret it all. You will wish you could take it all back._

The emotional pain Rishid felt now was so overwhelming. Ishizu had assured him again and again that Marik understood, that wherever the boy's spirit was now, he had already forgiven them both, but Rishid was finding it impossible to accept.

Ishizu had told him tearfully, _"We were both forced to forget everything important to us against our wills. But . . . somewhere deep in our hearts, we still remembered. And Marik helped us remember it all once again. He knew we still loved him, even then."_

Poor Ishizu. . . . How she tried to be strong when she felt that her entire being was shattered into thousands of pieces! She had done it before. She always tried to comfort Rishid when she herself was in desperate need of it. Now she moved closer, kneeling down to embrace both of her brothers, living and deceased. Crystalline drops spilled from her eyes as she felt Marik's cool flesh between her and Rishid. Only hours before had she finally remembered him. Had he known? Did he know that, as he died, those he loved recalled him at last? Did he know that they didn't want him to leave their lives?

Rishid leaned back against the side of the ship, not caring as a bit of ocean spray reached out to touch his face and arms. He held Marik's body closer to his heart, feeling the boy's limp arms hang at his sides. More than anything, he wished for those arms to reach up and embrace him. He wanted his brother to be alive. He wanted to hear Marik speak to him again, to hear the soft, unique tones that were Marik's and Marik's alone. But he never would again. He could only hear Marik's voice in his memories now. And never would he see the boy alive again. Rishid tensed as the stiff, cold body slumped against him more. His heart was completely shattered.

Again and again scenes played in his mind. He saw Marik pleading for him to listen in the throne room, his body battered and bleeding from the torture he'd endured. He saw himself tending to the youth's wounds. Marik struggling to stand, trying so desperately to get his elder brother to remember. The horrible scream of pain when he was stabbed in the back and thrown into the water far below. The last words he breathed to Rishid.

"_I feel warm, Rishid." _Marik had clutched at Rishid's wrist as weakly as he could. _"So warm . . . and loved. . . ."_ This was significant, as the water was freezing. The boy had gone still then, his eyes gazing ahead blankly with the look of death.

Rishid sobbed harder, rocking back and forth with Marik's body. His soul was shredded. Marik was the one who had given him the strength to go on living when everything seemed bleak. Now the boy had passed on, leaving his beloved siblings behind to cope with it all. It seemed an unreal nightmare.

Marik wouldn't awake from his sleep. Rishid knew that. And Ishizu knew it. But Rishid couldn't put his brother down. He couldn't release the boy and lay him down on some cold slab. That would be accepting that Marik wouldn't be coming back. And Rishid wasn't willing to do that. How could he set Marik down? How could he possibly accept that, after everything they had come through, the one he treasured more than any other couldn't hug him anymore? Marik couldn't smile at him or laugh. He couldn't whisper his deepest thoughts and look at Rishid with the sweet lavender eyes.

Ishizu swallowed hard, similar thoughts running through her own mind. Of course Marik had been the youth calling for her help in her vision. But she hadn't been able to help him. Even if she had been there, she doubted she could have prevented any of this. This thought didn't make her feel any less responsible, however. Silent tears coursed down her face as she tried to put her arm around Rishid's form. The poor man was literally convulsing with sobs as he clutched Marik's body in desperation. Though Ishizu also loved Marik more than life itself, she knew that he and Rishid had shared a certain special bond that was unique to them and them alone. Marik had another such bond with her, and oh! how she longed, as Rishid did, to have her brother embrace her. She hadn't seen him before he passed away. It had been too late when she had managed to arrive after leaving the dungeon battle.

Rishid looked up at her with tortured eyes when he felt her arm around him. "I love him," he said shakily. "I love our brother!" Tears continued to slip down his face uncontrollably as his hand came to rest on the wicked scars engraven in Marik's back (Marik's shirt had been laying on top of him when Kade was there, but he wasn't actually wearing it). Those scars . . . so treacherous . . . and yet . . . so binding between them. The two had always loved each other, but when Rishid had chosen to share Marik's pain by carving tattoos in his own face, it had sealed forever the fact that they would always be unusually close. He remembered it now—the scars that symbolized their bond. Earlier in Juno he had stated flatly to Marik that he didn't know why he ever would carve permanent marks into his face. But now he knew. Again to his mind came every sting of the blade as he had done it, hearing Marik's screams in the background all the while. He had done it for Marik.

The eerie call of the seagulls overhead in the cloudy skies haunted Rishid and Ishizu both. The birds seemed to know that there had been a death. They circled around the top of the mast, observing the loving family for long moments.

"I know," Ishizu said softly, squeezing Rishid's shoulder. "I know you love him. I do as well. We will never forget him." She touched Marik's brow and then carefully took him into her arms as Rishid loosened his grip to let her do so. Perhaps, she hoped, they would see him again. Someday they would meet once more. Ishizu would hug Marik tightly and then he would hug her back, his eyes dancing and bright as always. Rishid would join their embrace and they would all be reunited again. But it all seemed so far away. She wanted Marik now! He was too young to leave them. His whole life was ahead of him.

Rishid could see Ishizu was clinging to the last threads of her composure. Gently he touched her shoulder, watching as she stroked Marik's hair and grasped one of the cold hands in hers. He loved her for trying to stay strong for his sake, but Ishizu needed her time to grieve as well as he did. He didn't want her to feel that she had to hold back. They had to get through this together. They had to comfort each other.

Ishizu froze as she felt Rishid's hand come to rest on her shoulder. She sensed what he was trying to do and what he wanted her to do. And immense Thanksgiving overwhelmed her that she did still have Rishid. Yes, they would get through this. Somehow. They had to. Marik would want them to.

And so she fell into Rishid's arms, letting loose with every tear she had bottled up inside. Hundreds and thousands of crystal drops flooded her eyes and blurred her vision as she cried as she never thought she could. She had wanted to cry so many times during this nightmare, but mostly she had refused to. And when she had, never had she let all of her anguish out. Now she finally did, feelings of hopelessness swirling around her heart. Though she knew she had to, she honestly didn't know how she would go on without Marik. He brightened her life in so many ways, large and small. She and Rishid had always treasured the precious spirit that had been entrusted to their love and care.

Rishid held Ishizu and Marik both close to his heart now. As the moon forced its way through the clouds, the light shone softly down on all of the Ishtar siblings, illuminating their weary, heart-broken forms. It gave a gentle glow to Marik's cold, tan flesh, and, combined with his sweet face, gave the youth the appearance of being quite angelic.

"He . . . he is an angel now," Ishizu managed to say with a melancholy smile.

"He always was," was Rishid's pained response.

Marik was an angel to Ishizu and Rishid. He had always been. Even during his darkest days, which seemed so long ago now, they had seen the beautiful spirit hidden deep within. The noble, strong-willed, fierce spirit that, when released, could never be contained. Marik had often felt trapped in this mortal realm, a fact that made both his siblings' hearts ache.

Ishizu closed her eyes now, offering a whispered prayer that the precious boy had found comfort and peace in the next life and that he no longer felt confined. If she could know that he was happy, then she could struggle to go on in life.

Again Rishid found himself holding Marik's body against him. The boy's stab wound had been bandaged and then healed by Sapphire. The other injuries he had sustained upon his arrival in Juno had still been healing. But now none of those would heal. Marik was no longer there to will his body to recover. The thoughts made Rishid's heart ache anew.

And Ishizu's heart was aching as well. "Oh Rishid," she whispered in horror, still not wanting to believe the truth that lay before them, "our brother is gone!" She moved closer to him and Rishid made room for her, putting a strong arm around her numbly while keeping Marik's body held firm across their laps. They only had each other now.

Rishid was the first to hear the soft whisper being carried to them by the gentle waters. At first the words were indiscernible, but then they grew clear. It was a female, singing in the ancient Egyptian tongue. Rishid had heard that voice before! He had heard and been comforted countless times in his early years by that voice. But now he paled at the sound of it. Surely this was impossible. He couldn't be hearing it! If he was, he knew he must be going crazy because of Marik's death.

But when he looked at Ishizu, he saw that she was leaning forward, her blue eyes widening. She heard it too. And then a slight glimmer of hope shone in her eyes. She recognized the voice too. And she found comfort in it.

A soft glow illuminated the deck of the ship. As Ishizu and Rishid watched in awe, a kind, loving figure slowly materialized within the light. Her beautiful features and dark hair were strikingly similar to Ishizu's own, but still there was a certain difference. This woman had come to the end of her mortal existance. She had seen what awaited on the other side. Her golden eyes, similar to Rishid's, sparkled and radiated with the love only a mother could show. Purposefully she stepped forward, stretching forth her hand.

Rishid was the first to attempt speaking. "Mother?" he managed to choke out, his voice strained with disbelief and also confusion. Their mother was alone. Why wasn't Marik's spirit with her? Surely . . . surely he would be allowed to stay with her!

The woman smiled tenderly. "Yes," she whispered, "it is I, my dear Rishid." She touched his cheek, the gentle energy from her being warming Rishid's soul. "You have grown up so well."

Rishid swallowed hard, feeling tears glimmering in his eyes. How he had longed to talk to her again! He was so happy for the opportunity, though grief-stricken at the circumstances. She must be here to offer some sort of comfort . . . perhaps to take Marik with her, if his spirit wandered in confusion. . . . "If it weren't for you, Mother, I would not have grown up at all," he finally said. "I would have perished on the desert sands."

Mrs. Ishtar laid a hand on his shoulder. "At times, when I saw how terrible your father treated you, I wondered if I'd made the right decision by bringing you into our family. But when I saw the love between you and Ishizu, and later with Marik, I knew I had. I have always been watching over all of you, my dear children."

She turned to look at Ishizu. "You remember me, don't you, Ishizu?" she said kindly, smiling as she remembered the bouncy, cheerful little girl Ishizu had once been.

"Yes," Ishizu replied instantly, happiness enfolding her despite the pain. "Of course. You are Mother. My mother. Rishid's mother. And . . ." Tears welled in her eyes. "Marik's mother."

Mrs. Ishtar gently brushed the tears away. "It's alright, child," she said softly. "There is not a need for tears tonight." She bent down, touching Marik's cold cheek. A wistful look came into her eyes then and she smiled sadly. How she wished she had been able to personally know Marik, and he her! She had only been able to watch him from afar, protecting him and the others when she could, but never really being able to talk with any of them. More than anything, she longed to hold her children again.

"But, Mother," Rishid protested, "our brother is dead." He had spoke those words, and similar ones, several times now, but still his voice cracked when he did. How could he ever speak of it, or of Marik at all, without feeling pain?

In response Mrs. Ishtar kissed Marik's forehead and whispered low to him before straightening up. "No," she smiled, "he is not dead. He has not left you. He would not, nor could he. The bonds he has with the two of you transcend anything and everything else." She stepped back, knowing that her time here was at an end. "He will awaken very soon."

Both Ishizu and Rishid stared at her in awe. They couldn't believe it. It was impossible! And yet they didn't question her. Somehow, in some glorious way, her words surely must come true, even though it was unreal! Mrs. Ishtar wouldn't speak of something that couldn't happen.

They also realized their mother had to leave. The goodbyes they shared then were bittersweet. They knew she would continue to watch over them, and that she would never truly leave them, but still they didn't want her to go any more than she wanted to go. And so she hovered beside them, waiting and watching. Soon they were all rewarded.

Rishid felt a slight shuddering under his strong hands but quickly attributed it to the rocking ship. The precious one he was clutching to his heart hadn't moved in hours that felt more like endless eons. But their mother had promised. . . .

And in his imagination Rishid heard Marik's voice. Soft, kind, and loving, as always. As he had sounded when he breathed his last.

"Rishid . . . Ishizu . . . it's so cold. . . . I'm so cold. . . ."

Rishid, who had been running his hand across the scars under Marik's eyes, froze in place now, unable to move. Was this what Marik's death would do to him? He would go insane? He had once in the past as well, after the ex-Rare Hunters had done something abominable to make them think that Marik had died. Only when Marik had been found to be truly alive had Rishid been able to recover his sanity.

But . . . when he looked up at Ishizu, he found that she, too, had heard the voice now. He could see it in her eyes. They both wanted to believe their mother's words. They knew she wouldn't lie, but the thought of Marik still living was so foreign to them by now, after so many hours. Still . . . they had to hope, they had to believe. . . .

Both of them dared to gaze down at their brother nestled in Rishid's arms. Marik gave a weak shudder, trying so desperately to burrow into Rishid's cloak.

_This is impossible!_ Rishid was screaming inwardly. Oh! how he wanted it to be true! How he wanted Marik to be alive, for him to stay with him and Ishizu forever! But the boy had died. Shadi had even said that his journey had come to an end. And yet . . . their mother had said he would awaken.

As if reading his mind, Marik smiled up at him and Ishizu both, his eyes tired but happy as he opened them. "My journey in that kingdom has ended," he said softly, explaining the true meaning of Shadi's words, "but . . . that doesn't mean I can't continue to journey with those I love."

Rishid stared at him, unable to find the words to speak at first. Marik was looking at him and at Ishizu! It couldn't be real . . . but it was! Rishid had seen the boy hit the water so hard he was rendered unconscious. He had held the boy tightly and felt the life slipping from him. Marik had died in his arms. But no . . . he hadn't died! Here he was, looking up at them!

Marik's gaze then raised to Mrs. Ishtar, who had stayed to see her youngest child awaken. She smiled tenderly at him and he smiled back. He knew who she was. "Mother," he whispered softly.

Now Mrs. Ishtar's form began to shimmer and fade. "I must go now, my children," she said softly, "but know that I am always watching over you all." She reached out, tenderly touching each of their hands, and then vanished. Only a soft sparkle remained where she had been.

Rishid held Marik's warm body a bit closer. "Mother," he whispered, tears coming to his eyes. "Thank you." And he also thanked God. He had lost all hope that his precious brother yet lived. But when Mrs. Ishtar had gently spoken to him, he had pulsated with life once again! Marik was alive and breathing, looking up at his brother and sister with awe.

Ishizu, also, was in awe. Tenderly she reached out, taking Marik's hand and clasping it firmly between her own. Here was her younger brother, the boy she had seen in so many visions during her stay at the palace and whom she had felt a strong connection to. She had known instantly when she saw him that it was true, that he was her brother, and Rishid's. She smiled softly, feeling him squeezing her hand. "Marik," she said quietly, remembering something else, "you have indeed kept your promise."

Marik blinked at her, at first not comprehending. Everything had been so dark where he had been. He had felt nothing at all, but it hadn't seemed like death. He had been aware of himself and his existence, though he had been alone. So he had pondered over many things while he sat there, unable to do much else. Then he had heard a sweet, tender voice calling to him. "Wake up, my child," it had said. "Your brother and sister are very sad without you. You must come back to them." And at last he had managed to open his eyes and look up at those he treasured. It was his mother who had spoken to him, he knew now. He had seen her standing there and smiling.

Then he remembered when Ishizu meant about a promise. _We'll meet again, sister,_ he had told her just before they had all separated at the palace. _And we'll go home together._ He looked up, at peace. "Yes," he agreed. "Of course, sister. I wouldn't break a promise." And he could see something in her eyes, something he hadn't seen since he had found her here in Juno. She remembered him completely once again. He saw the recognition glowing in her eyes. And when he looked back at Rishid, he saw the same.

And something else, as well. Guilt. Marik saw extreme, heart-breaking guilt that he had never seen in Rishid's eyes before. He stared at his elder brother, confused. "Rishid?" he asked, his voice still weak and raspy. "What's wrong, Rishid?"

Rishid held Marik close to his heart. "Brother," he replied, "I have done inexcusable things to you while we have been here. So many inexcusable things. . . ." Now he finally remembered Marik. And he didn't know how a thousand apologies could ever make up for everything he had done that had hurt the boy he lived for. When he had first seen Marik, he had treated him so coldly. And now he saw in his mind again how Marik had looked after Rishid had shoved him hard against the marble wall. He remembered the blood that had covered that part of the wall afterward. He gritted his teeth, unable to continue seeing all of this. It was so horrible, so abominable . . . to think he had ever treated Marik, whom he had sworn to always protect, in such cruel ways. How was it that Marik had not become simply terrified of him? How could he have kept trying to get through to the brother he loved when this other, cold Rishid had kept pushing him away?

Marik hugged him weakly as best as he could. "Rishid," he said softly, "I forgave you for it all." He looked up into the golden orbs, his own lavender eyes conveying all of his inner emotions. _You forgave me for Battle City without a second thought,_ his eyes said. _And I did indeed remember you all the times I hurt you. But you, Rishid, you didn't remember me at all when you behaved as you did here. _"How could I not forgive my only brother?"

Rishid gazed into the teen's eyes, reading all of what he was trying to say within them. Then Marik's voice came again, speaking softly, telling him that he didn't blame Rishid at all. Rishid couldn't help it that he had been abducted and brainwashed. It had all been horrible, but also beautiful. Just like during Battle City, they came through this trial with their relationships renewed. They had new knowledge of their family strength. It was a wonderful feeling. Rishid's heart was full. He could say nothing more. But he embraced the boy tenderly, remembering how a younger Marik had often come to him, wanting to be picked up and held. This teenage Marik might not always admit to enjoying it, but Rishid knew he still did. And he couldn't bear to think of a world without him. Now he acutely felt the pain of living alone in the palace so long before Marik had been able to find him. He had been closed off, his spirit dormant, until Marik had reawakened it.

Ishizu, who had been holding back, now couldn't control her happiness any longer. Her brothers had needed a moment alone to be reconciled. Now Ishizu wanted to hold both her brothers close, rejoicing in the events of this night. She had her family back with her again. And they would all return safely home, indeed as Marik had promised.

She moved forward, placing a gentle arm around each brother. In return, Marik and Rishid each placed an arm around her while still embracing each other as well. It was a symbol of their family strength—a strength that would never be broken or diminished.

* * *

Rishid stayed awake long into the night, though Marik had fallen asleep again with weariness. Ishizu, though she had stayed awake for a long time to talk with her elder brother, now was dozing as well, her head on Rishid's shoulder.

They were going home, all them of them. It seemed so remarkable, so incredible. After Marik had seemed to die in Rishid's arms, the poor man had lost all hope. But now Marik was in his arms again, alive, sleeping peacefully. He snuggled close, grabbing at the fabric of Rishid's warm cloak.

Slowly the boy's eyes opened. "Rishid?" he whispered.

Instantly Rishid came to attention. "Yes?" he asked, smiling gently down at the living treasure and miracle he held.

"Kade . . . he's alright now, isn't he?" Marik worried. In all the confusion of his state of mind upon regaining consciousness, he hadn't remembered the child at first. But now he did. He remembered asking Rishid about him after being pulled up from below the water's surface, and Rishid had told him that Kade was safe and that his mother had been found, but what now? He realized Kade must consider him dead. And he wasn't sure at all how that would affect a four-year-old so sweet and innocent as Kade, especially after he had already lost his father.

And so Rishid told him softly of Kade's behavior right before the ship had left, not wanting to keep the knowledge from Marik. He knew Marik would want to know. "He will be alright, Marik," Rishid assured him. "He has his mother now, and they are both living in the palace, as it should be." He paused, remembering how Kade had sobbed, shaking Marik's body and trying to make the boy wake up. It had broken Rishid's heart then and it was doing so again now. "He didn't want to believe you were dead, brother," Rishid told him quietly, "but then . . . neither did I." He had brokenly accepted it as the truth, though it was the last thing he had wanted to ever have to do. Kade, he assumed, had to accept it as well.

Marik looked up at the sky. "Someday," he said slowly, "I'd like to come back, Rishid. I want Kade to know I'm still alive." He watched a shooting star make its way across the velvet blackness. He would have wanted to turn the ship back and tell him now, but he knew that they had already passed back into their own dimension. He had felt it happen just a moment ago. And he knew it wouldn't be as easy to pass back again.

Rishid smiled softly. "Then perhaps someday we shall, under more peaceful circumstances." He didn't know how they would get back, but if Marik wished it, Rishid would try everything in his power to make certain they did. Perhaps, if they came back again, Juno would be an entirely different world—the world that Adelpha had wished for it to become once more. It might not be a painful experience to go there if that were so. The memories that had haunted Rishid as they had gotten on the ship might no longer plague him. In time, maybe he would be able to completely forgive himself. Marik forgave him, after all.

He wondered idly what had happened to Colchis. He, Sapphire had informed them, had not been found at the battle's end, though his brother Fafnir was dead. Rishid frowned slightly, wondering if Colchis had escaped and would be back later to make more trouble. And then there was Yami Marik. . . . Where had that demon gone? Rishid hadn't bothered to stay and find out after he had taken Marik's still body into his arms. At that time, he had only been concerned with getting his precious brother back up to the surface.

Marik started to doze again. "Rishid?" he whispered now, bringing the man out of his thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad you remember me again."

Rishid looked down at the exhausted teen, watching him slip back into slumber. "Yes," he said, his voice cracking, "so am I." He smiled, running a hand over Marik's bangs as they fell in his eyes again. "So very immeasurably glad. . . ."

* * *

Kade was watching the shooting star as well, from his new room in the palace. Everything was so strange and new to him, but he was at the age where acceptance of many things is very easy. He comprehended that his mother was the rightful queen of Juno and that he himself would be next in line for the throne. But what he couldn't comprehend, especially when he saw the star, was that his friend and surrogate father was dead. He still couldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe it!

Tears slipped from his eyes as he watched the star fall out of sight. "You're not dead, Mr. Marik," he whispered stubbornly. "You're only sleeping or something. And you're gonna come back and see me again!" He hugged a new favorite quilt close to him, continuing to watch the horizon in hopes that his friend would come. Eventually he fell asleep there, curled in the windowseat with memories of the kind Egyptian boy who had risked it all to help him.

And somewhere else, far away, a ship pulled in at Domino Harbor.

_Fin_  



End file.
